


If I Was Your Vampire

by MistressNobody (mauzymorn)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauzymorn/pseuds/MistressNobody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's about to give up on the Slayer when a mysterious girl appears to convince him Buffy's worth it. Who is she, and why does she insist only he can stop the coming apocalypse? Set sometime in the sexcapades after 'Smashed' and then goes AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for up to the episode "Smashed" in the (I think it was...) 6th season, and then will go AU from there. 
> 
> Originally posted on FanFiction.net here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6896115/1/If_I_Was_Your_Vampire
> 
> Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters or material from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" does not belong to me; this fan fiction was written for my own amusement, and not for any profit.

"Get over yourself!" She spat at him hatefully, just like he had expected her to. Expecting it didn't stop the hurt, though. Covering it, trying to save what pathetically small amount of dignity that somehow still remained, he forced his lips into a cocky smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Rather have _you_ over me again, pet." _Oh, if looks could stake._ It still baffled Spike how he could find her glares simultaneously arousing and completely soul-crushing. Well, if he _had_ a soul to crush in the first place. She turned without a word, leaving her scornful silence to speak volumes. As he heard the door to his crypt slam closed under lethal Slayer strength, Spike collapsed back to his mattress with a deep sigh from his useless lungs. It was utterly hopeless.

She would never love him. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy huffed out a harsh breath, pulling her denim jacket tighter around her body as if warding off a chill that wasn't there. _Stupid vampire... All with the smirkyness and the... whatever._ She stomped determinedly toward home, trying to force all thoughts of a Spike-like nature from her mind. It was amazing how epically she was failing at that.

He scared her. In the quiet of her own mind, where no one else would ever know, she could admit that. She was absolutely terrified of him. Not in the whole 'you will bring about my sticky death' way; she'd long since recognized the fact that, for whatever reason, Spike refused to end her. Rather, she was deathly afraid of how he was making her feel.

 _Loved and protected._ The words whispered through her mind, her inner voice sounding surprisingly calm.

No, not 'loved and protected', she insisted back. He made her feel... Angered and disgusted. Yeah, that's it.

_Liar. He loves you._

He was a vampire. That automatically meant that he was incapable of emotions... Especially love.

_You don't really believe that, and you know it. The hurt that you cause him is clear as day every time you look in his eyes._

Buffy resolutely pushed the thought aside as she walked up her driveway, refusing to dwell on it. As she reached the front door, she paused. Instead of turning the knob, she moved to the side of the house and climbed the old faithful tree that led to her bedroom window. She didn't feel like running into Dawn or any of the Scoobies when she smelled like Spike and shame, which would probably lead to the thousand-and-one awkward questions that she really wanted to avoid.

Falling into bed with all her clothes on, she wearily closed her eyes and prayed to whoever might be listening that she could _actually_ fall asleep. She knew it wouldn't happen, though. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of her inglorious rise from the earth haunted her. She felt like she would never be at peace again. _Way to go to bed on a sunny and optimistic note, Summers._

"Shut up..." She whispered with a shaking voice to the quiet room, fully aware that she was talking to herself. _I'm really losing it._

When her alarm clock blared at seven, signalling that it was time to get up and get Dawn ready for school, she still hadn't slept a wink. She dragged herself up off the bed, discarding her denim jacket and pants from the night before. Pulling out a fresh pair of jeans, she started to yank her black tank top over her head. Her movement was halted as the cloth came close to her mouth and nose, and she inhaled deeply. It smelled like him. It smelled like cigarettes, leather, and that special kind of spice that was solely his.

Pulling the shirt back down, Buffy refused to question why his scent on her clothing somehow made facing the morning a little more bearable. She pulled on her new jeans, cleaned herself up a little in her bathroom, and threw her hair up into a messy ponytail. _Paste on a smile for them._ But, as much as she tried, she never did manage to smile for the ones who had torn her out of paradise. Deep down, she felt that they didn't deserve it.

"Dawn! Get your butt down here and eat!" Dawn and her lack of school-ness was just one more concern being heaped onto her already crowded shoulders.

"Be down in a minute!" Her baby sister called from up the stairs. Buffy continued with setting out the bowl, milk, and cereal for Dawn's breakfast. Buffy and cooking had always been the utmost of non-mixy; suddenly having to play 'mom' to her sister hadn't changed that. _Too bad Spike wasn't here to make her those pancakes that he's somehow so good at..._ Buffy frowned at the wayward thought, and chased it from her mind. She didn't want Spike around. Not at all.

"Dawn! You're gonna be late, get your ass down here!" Dawn flew down the stairs at that, looking just a tad frightened. _Good. Maybe she'll actually make it out the door on time._ The teen pretty much hoovered her cereal, and gave Buffy a quick goodbye before running out the door.

"Still running late, huh?" The sound of Willow's voice shouldn't put her defenses up, but it did. She knew that Willow felt horribly about the whole 'ripping out of Heaven' thing, but Buffy couldn't help but be pissed about it anyways. She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension that had settled there, and turned to face her friend.

"Yeah. She's real academically conscious." Her voice was dry and biting, but she couldn't help it. Willow faked a shaky smile at that, obviously trying to get Cheery Buffy to make an appearance. _Try all you want._

"So what's on your agenda, today?" Willow's attempt at small talk grated on her nerves, but she tried to push it aside. This was Willow, her best friend. The person that she was _supposed_ to want to confide in; whose shoulder she was supposed to cry on. So why, then, did her stupid body keep wanting to cry on Spike's shoulder instead? Not that she'd ever actually do that, of course. Spike didn't have a soul; he couldn't possibly understand. _Yeah... Keep telling yourself that._ Her inner voice was a sarcastic bitch this morning, apparently.

"I dunno. Go looking for a job, I guess." Buffy said without much enthusiasm. "Got to pay the bills somehow." Tara chose that moment to shyly edge her way into the kitchen.

"Um... A-about that..." Tara's voice was hesitant, and Buffy felt the coldness inside her melt a little. It was hard to stay angry at someone so gentle by nature. "I was... Um, thinking that Willow and I could start... Uh, paying you rent? You know, since we are living here and eating food and... stuff."

Buffy was surprised, to say the least. She hadn't really expected such an offer to come from Tara, though now that she thought about it, it really made sense. Willow was totally surprised to, by the look on her face. _So Tara didn't have this talk with Willow first?_ Willow turned to her girlfriend, still looking surprised.

"Tara?" She asked. Tara's face took on a look of defiance, while her body tensed. It was the kind of heroism that one would find in a small defenseless animal.

"Well... I was talking with – " Tara's voice abruptly cut off, before continuing again. "... someone... and they pointed out about how it was unfair of us to stay here and expect you to cover everything on your own, and to just mooch off of you when you've got more important things than money to worry about and... stuff." She finished nervously. A smile slipped onto Buffy's lips. It was only a slight smile, granted, but genuine nonetheless.

"Yeah," Willow piped up, smiling as well. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! Geez, what kind of friend am I? We can totally pay you some rent and, you know, help out and stuff." Buffy looked back and forth between Willow's eager face and Tara's blushing one.

"Well... Thanks, guys. That'd really help a lot, actually." As much as Buffy hated to take hand-outs, she knew she needed the help. And Tara's mysterious 'someone' was right; it was only fair for them to give her a bit back for the room and board. She had way too much of the Hellmouthy nature on her 'To Do' list to have to worry about finding a job too. Willow skipped happily out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, probably mentally patting herself on the back for the whole offer-of-rent thing. Tara turned shyly to go as well, but there was still something Buffy needed to know.

"Tara..." The quiet witch paused in her momentum, and sent her a questioning look. "Who was the 'someone' you were talking to, that planted this seed of helpfulness?" Even though Buffy had schooled her voice to only reflect curiosity, Tara's face suddenly held a guarded look.

"D-don't get mad..." She stuttered out, and suddenly Buffy knew exactly who it had been.

"Spike." She said simply. Tara cautiously nodded her head, and jumped to the vampire's defense regardless of the fact that Buffy hadn't sounded mad.

"Spike and I kinda talked a lot when you were…" Tara's already soft voice faltered.

"Dead." Buffy supplied, no emotion whatsoever to her voice.

"Y-yeah. I think… I think that he really needed someone to talk to, and everyone else was… Well, you know." Buffy nodded her head, curiosity biting at her. She hadn't asked anyone for details of what they had done while she was dead, but now she burned to know what it had been like. Tara seemed to recognize this, and slowly took a seat at the kitchen table. Buffy followed her, and braced herself for the conversation.

"What was it like?" Buffy's voice was raw, her calm façade slipping for just a moment. Tara's eyes grew a little misty.

"I think that it was… worst for him." That surprised her.

"What do you mean?"

"When you first... When we got to the bottom of the tower, you were… so still. None of us wanted to believe it. But Spike… We had to hold him back. He was desperate to get to you, but you were surrounded in sunshine. We couldn't… let him burn. We needed him." Buffy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, trying to convince herself that none of it was affecting her. Tara went on, seeming to intuitively know that this was something Buffy needed to hear. "For a bit afterwards, he seemed like he was wasting away… He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, you couldn't coax an emotion out of him if you tried. He was a lot like – " Her voice broke off abruptly.

"A lot like I am now." Buffy supplied for her, staring blankly over the witch's shoulder at the wall. Tara didn't respond to that, but continued with what she was saying.

"He snapped out of it, eventually. I think it was Dawn that did it. I asked him once why, and all he said was 'I made a promise to a lady'. The whole time you were… gone… He stuck by her as often as possible. I really think that his 'promise' was the only thing keeping him from meeting the sun." The sincerity in Tara's voice really brought home to Buffy what she was saying.

Spike had been so grieved by her death that if it hadn't been for Dawn, he would have followed her. She struggled with the idea, still not wanting to admit that a vampire, the _Slayer of Slayers_ for that matter, could actually feel so strongly. She could hear Merrick's voice in her mind, from one of their first lecture sessions: _Vampires are utterly remorseless. Any emotion that they show you is precisely that; a show. Without souls they can't feel anything but hatred and a lust for blood._

"I met up with him, the other day." Tara continued, pulling Buffy out of her deep thoughts. "He really did say all that stuff about helping you out. He said that you had way too much on your plate, and that you'd never admit it to us. H-he said that just because you're the Slayer doesn't mean that you're invincible." Buffy stared at her, a little floored by the words. _When was the last time anybody remembered that I'm not just the Slayer, I'm a girl too?_ The fact that all this insightfulness was coming out of a vampire that had previously made a career out of trying to kill her was making the whole thing even weirder.

"Tara… Lemme ask you something." Tara perked up, almost as if she was in school again and waiting for the teacher to ask her some difficult question. "Do you really believe that Spike can feel any of those things?" Tara's face seemed to sadden, and her answer was very quiet.

"Yes, Buffy. I… I do. I don't think that it's possible to fake the grief that he felt after you... died." Tara's words had given Buffy a need for thinking on them. But not right then.

"Thanks, Tara." The witch shyly smiled at her, as if just now becoming uncomfortable with how much she had spoken. "And… Could you maybe not mention this conversation? To _anyone_?" Tara nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Of course." Tara walked away from the table, leaving Buffy focused into her own private world.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike sighed heavily, debating back and forth in his mind as to whether or not it was even worth getting up from his bed. _Slayer'll probably pop by and want another round of 'fuck me, but I still hate you' anyways. What's the point in even bloody well getting dressed?_ Shaking off the thoughts, he forced himself to get up and put on some clothes regardless.

His inner clock assured him that it was well past sundown, so he slung his duster on and went for a fag and his silver lighter from the pocket. He took comfort in the old and worn leather, as if it assured him that he could still be the strong creature that he'd moulded himself into over the years. He didn't have to be the Slayer's bitch. _Right, an' the second you see her, you'll once again turn back into the begging ponce._ He mentally swore at himself, shaking the thoughts from his mind.

He wished that he could convince himself to just give her up, to just quit the abuse and let her go. But he just didn't have it in him; she was drowning in her own brand of 'unlife', and the love that he felt for the contrary chit kept him from the ability to just toss her out of his existence. _How far the mighty have fallen… What kind of 'Slayer of Slayers' are you, mate?_ It was true; once upon a time he had travelled to this hellhole with every intention of ending her young life, and thereby adding another Slayer death to his belt. However, all plans of her ruin dissolved in the wake of her light, from the very first.

The old American adage of 'hindsight is 20/20' sprung to mind. He could look back on that first meeting with her, and recognize that he'd lost the will to kill her almost instantly. It was the way she danced. He'd never met another that danced with the kind of vivacity that she did back then, both in the actual dancing she'd done at the Bronze as well as the dance that she always reserved just for him. The fighting they'd engaged in over the years had been wholly fun; filled with hard kicks and punches and quippy little lines.

The smile that had sprung to his lips at the remembrance died slowly as his mind made a comparison. She had lost that vivacity, since her return. _Can't say I bloody well blame her._ As much as his still heart had rejoiced upon first realizing she was back, he couldn't find any pleasure in her existence now. It was as if Buffy was completely dead inside, and that's what was killing him the most. He ached to be able to make it all right for her, to somehow bring life back into her wraith-like form. But every tactic he'd tried for that end had only resulted in dismal failure.

He could handle her emotional retreat, he could deal with the loss of the shaky partnership they'd had before her jump; what he couldn't stand anymore was the sex. He loved her with every fibre of his twisted being, and having access to her body but not her heart was the real finisher for him. _I can't go on like this._ As he puffed out his last bit of smoke, he glanced up to realize that he was once again in front of her house. His feet had somehow turned him this way without his knowledge or permission, whilst he'd been lost in thought. _Bugger this._ He was just turning to leave when a voice from the doorway halted him.

"Spike!" Dawn's voice was cheery and inviting; she was the only one who ever really wanted him around. "I thought that looked like you standing out here." He gave her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Should be more careful who you open doors to, Bit." He chastised, only for her to roll her eyes at him.

"Oh, please. Nothing could be worse than what I'm living with now." Spike frowned, wanting to defend Buffy's less-than-loving behaviour. He didn't get the chance to speak, though, because the Nibblet cut him off. "Come on in, we've got an oogly boogly that you might have some info on." Shrugging his shoulders, Spike entered the house and quietly hung his precious duster on the stair rail, mentally preparing himself for the frigid welcome that he always received from the damned Scoobies.

Why he still tried to help them, he'd never be able to fathom.


	2. Let the Games Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

"Ugh..." Xander began complaining, the second he spotted Spike framed in the doorway of the living room. "And the Bleached Wonder comes to pester us again." Spike ignored the comment, already too used to the Whelp's inane mumblings concerning him. Too emotionally weary to continue the verbal match, he slumped down to the floor facing the couch and propped his back against the wall. 

"What's this nasty that the Nibblet mentioned?" He asked with absolutely no emotion to his voice. The lot of them stared at him in silence for a moment, and it put him on edge. "...What." It was more of a demand that they stop looking at him, than an actual question. Xander blinked before he responded.

"That's it?" Spike could swear the Whelp sounded almost disappointed. "No comeback? No attempt at a witty retort?" Spike merely stared at them all in silence. He knew that he wasn't acting like his usually combative self. _Don' rightly give a fuck, either._ He was too drained to really try. Buffy, of all people, broke the awkward silence by getting down to business.

"Know anything about a demon, gives Freddy Kreuger a run for his money in ugliness? He had this symbol kind of, like, carved into his chest." She spun a piece of paper to face him, her laughable attempt at sketching the symbol upon it. As childlike as her drawing capabilities were, he could still recognize it from the first.

"Name's Lao-Hir. Djinn, that is." She looked at him blankly. "A genie, Slayer." She blinked, the only outward show of her surprise. A frown quickly swept onto her beautiful face.

"How bad are we talking, here?" She was obviously expecting the worst, so a small part of him was glad to ease that worry.

"Small time on your scale, Slayer. Silver knife to the heart ought to do it." He hauled himself up from the creaky floor, and turned toward the doorway. "Have fun. Tah." Dawn was frowning at him with worry over the lack of feeling in his voice, but he didn't have it in him to pretend just then. Buffy's voice halted him, his back facing the small group.

"I want to talk to you." Like it always was from her, it was a demand and not a request. He was done being her lap dog.

"Brilliant. Unfortunately, I don't." He moved to begin his exit again, very aware of the silence of the Scoobies behind him.

"Spike!" The tone in Buffy's voice was the equivalent of ordering a dog to 'stay'. Finally angry, he turned and opened his mouth, intending to give her hell at last. Before he could begin, however, a light suddenly appearing on the ceiling distracted him.

All of their heads turned to look up, curious as to what he was staring at. The little circle of light expanded, becoming a large blue shimmering swirl on the ceiling.

"What in the bloody fuck?" Spike whispered, utterly entranced by the colours. They all jumped a foot when suddenly a figure came falling out of the swirl, landing hard on Buffy's living room table.

Spike stared at the slight and unmoving form, slowly approaching it to investigate. 'It' was obviously a female, clad in dark grey denims and black boots that reached mid-calf. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and an intricate tattoo on her left forearm was partially obscured by the curve of her body. Laying on her side, her face was hidden from view by long chestnut tresses. The stunned silence that had fallen over the room was broken by Anya.

"Huh. Wonder when she's from." Her tone was merely curious, but they all turned to stare at her.

"Ahn..." Xander cleared his throat before continuing. "Don't you mean 'where', not 'when'?" The ex-demon gave her lover the kind of patient look one usually reserves for children.

"No, I mean 'when'. Haven't any of you ever seen a chrono-portal before? I used them all the time when torturing wayward men as a vengeance demon." They all stared at her in shock.

"No, Ahn... Time travel's not exactly a regular thing for us." Disbelief still coloured the Whelp's voice.

"So..." Buffy broke in. "She's gonna get all _Back to the Future_ on us?" Anya blinked in confusion.

"What's that?" She queried.

"Never mind." Buffy muttered. The girl on the table finally began to stir, seeming to come to her senses quickly.

She leapt up off the table, coming alert to her unfamiliar surroundings in an instant. She whirled to face them, and made sure she had her back securely placed in the corner of the room. _Smart girl_ , Spike mused. A wicked looking dagger seemed to appear out of nowhere and she held it with a steady hand in front of her, her defensive stance perfect. _Wonderful..._ Spike's first genuine grin in a long time found its way to his lips.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy stared at the girl who had gone from deathly still to hellcat in about two seconds in equal parts shock and caution. From how quickly she had moved, she obviously knew how to fight like a pro. Always playing on the safe side, Buffy placed herself between the stranger and her friends, ready to attack if the need be. Her movement drew the girl's gaze to her, and Buffy noted the clear cerulean blue of her eyes.

"So," Buffy quipped. "I guess introductions are in order." When the girl spoke, her voice was low and husky with an inflection of an accent that she couldn't quite place.

"What's the date?" Buffy stared at her a moment longer, sizing her up.

"So, Anya was right. You've travelled through time?" Buffy was trying not to sound too harsh, since she was still unsure whether this was a friend or foe.

"What's the date?" The girl repeated, not moving an inch from her defensive position. Buffy figured things might go a little quicker if she just answered her. Just knowing the date didn't seem to satisfy her, however. The girl glanced over Buffy consideringly.

"Blonde hair, stake in back pocket... You must be the Slayer." Buffy was surprised that the girl had noticed the stake, since she hadn't drawn attention to it at all. The girl relaxed her position, sliding the dagger into a sheath that was strapped to the outside of her right thigh. _Obviously she doesn't think I'm a threat._ The thought was a little wry; Buffy wasn't used to not being considered dangerous.

"And do I get a name out of this little knowledge-festival?" It was easy for Buffy to fall back on sarcasm when she was unsure of her situation. The girl smirked at her, and it made her a little edgy.

"Arielle." She only offered the one name. "And yes, I've travelled back in time." This 'Arielle' had a cocky attitude that got on Buffy's nerves. Dawn poked her head out from behind her sister, curiosity obviously overcoming her uncertainty.

"How far in the future?" She asked eagerly. Arielle's eyes seemed to linger on Dawn for a minute, a serious look on her face, before she smiled and answered her.

"Sorry, pet. Can't tell you that." Buffy frowned at her.

"What are you doing here, then?" It wasn't really a question, so much as a demand for an answer. The smile that Arielle had flashed at Dawn disappeared as soon as Buffy had spoken. _She definitely doesn't like me._

"I'm here because, as always, the world is on the brink of destruction on the apocalyptic scale. And this time, Slayer, you won't save the day." Buffy slowly began to reach for her stake, wondering if that was supposed to sound as threatening as it had. Noticing her movement, Arielle rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. If I wanted you dead, you would be." As if to make her point, the blue of Arielle's eyes suddenly swirled in a quick flash of colour.

"You're not human." Buffy realized grimly. Arielle smirked at her, her eyes once again normal-looking.

"Not completely, no. Thanks for the obvious, princess." Giles seemed to suddenly find his voice.

"A half-breed of some sort, then?" He mused.

"Of a sort." She agreed. As if she, too, could see the wheels spinning in Giles' head, she quickly set him straight. "Don't bother making comparisons, Ripper. I'm a whole new breed of animal." He blinked at her.

"Good Lord," He pulled his glasses from his face and began to clean them like he always did when upset. "How do you know about that name?"

"Future, remember?" She smirked again. _Okay, she's really getting on my nerves._

"Let's get back on track, shall we?" Buffy bit out crossly. "If I don't win this coming apocalypse, then what? I die again? So what." She could feel the room grow still with the misery her words evoked. Arielle's face grew serious.

"No, it merely means that _you_ won't be the Champion this time. The Powers That Be have a different weapon in mind."

"So where do we get this bleedin' weapon, then?" Spike's voice cut into the conversation sharply. He'd been so quiet until then that Buffy had pretty much forgotten he was even there. Arielle seemed to go completely still at the sound of his voice; Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen a living being seem so much like a statue. Arielle slowly turned to face Spike, her expression devoid of emotion.

"I'll help you find the weapon." Buffy mentally grumbled a bit at the fact that the girl hadn't shown Spike any of the snarkiness that she'd been getting.

"Well, let's go get it then." He said impatiently. Her face looked a little sad.

"Nope. 'Fraid it's not that easy, big guy. You _all_ have to earn it." Spike's eyes narrowed at that, and Buffy could see he was picking apart what she said for possible hidden meanings.

"You said 'all' of us. What does that mean?" He sounded suspicious, and Buffy had to admit that she was too. Arielle sighed and leaned her back against the wall.

"It means that each one of you will have to prove to me that mankind is worth salvation."

"Who died and made _you_ judge and jury?" Xander grumped. _Yeah! Who says?_ Arielle glared him down before she answered.

"The Powers That Be did. You got a problem with that, feel free to make your little protest and not cooperate. That way, when you're all burning in a hellish nightmare on earth, your mates will know exactly who to blame for it." Her eyes did the whole swirly-thing again, which made Buffy frown in concern. She had no information on _what_ exactly this girl was, the half-human part of it aside. _I've never seen eyes like that before._ Xander's mouth silently opened and closed for a minute while he searched for some retort to make.

"How do we prove it to you?" Buffy cut in, wanting to move past Xander's metaphorical kicking and screaming.

"The lot of you need to demonstrate to me three qualities about the human race that deem them worthy of saving – one from you, one from the vampire, and one from your mates." The whole thing just seemed so… odd… to Buffy. _Three qualities?_

"Why are they all lumped together?" Spike asked, indicating the gang and sounding merely curious.

"Again, can't tell you that right now." _Oh come on._ Buffy glared at her.

"What CAN you tell us?" She burst out. Arielle stepped forward until she was right in Buffy's face.

"What I _can_ tell you, Goldilocks, is that I have no doubt in my mind that you and your little friends will fail this test." Buffy had been right earlier; this girl really did hate her. She could feel it practically pouring off of Arielle in waves. Spike broke the tension a little when he spoke up.

"Wouldn' count on that, poppet. Slayer and her little Scoobie gang've always come through before." As Arielle turned to Spike, Buffy noticed that her eyes swirled in a quick flash again. _What the hell is with that?_ Her face seemed to soften, losing the hard edge of anger that she'd shown to Buffy.

"Aren't you forgetting someone in that?" She said softly. Spike looked confused, and did that little head-tilt thing that usually drove Buffy nuts. "You've had your hand in averting two apocalypses at this point as well."

"Not like _he_ did much." Xander mumbled not-so-under-his-breath. Buffy frowned, wanting to point out that Spike had, indeed, helped them… But the criticism that would get her for siding with the soulless vampire made her hold her tongue. _Coward_ , her inner voice taunted.

"...Says the _only_ weak and talent-less human in this bunch." Arielle retorted sarcastically. She strode out of the living room and right out of the house without another word to any of them, leaving Buffy with a whole truckload of unanswered questions. She raced to the door, intending to demand more answers out of the annoying future-bitch, but when she got there Arielle was nowhere in sight. Buffy walked disbelievingly back into the living room.

"What the hell?" Dawn burst out.

"D-dawn… Language." Tara chastised her nervously. They all stared at each other, trying to make sense of the weird turn the night had taken.

"And on that refreshing note," Spike said dryly. "I hear a bottle of 'gold watch' calling my name."

"A bottle of what now?" Willow asked, totally lost.

"Scotch." Giles supplied. "In Cockney slang 'scotch' is 'gold watch'. And I must say, I second that." Spike headed for the door, and was gone before Buffy remembered that she'd wanted to talk to him before all the craziness had ensued.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike pushed open the door of his crypt, nicked bottle of booze in hand. He paused for a moment at the sight that greeted him. The candles that he usually had stashed around the place had been lit, and a solitary figure sat comfortably on top of the stone sarcophagus, apparently waiting for him.

Arielle held a lit fag between her fingers, her arm resting atop her raised knee and looking as if she owned the place. At the moment her eyes were a normal blue, but the changes they occasionally underwent still intrigued him. Spike moved further into the crypt, pulling off his duster and casually throwing it over the back of his beat-in armchair.

"Din' rightly think I'd be having company tonight." He mused to the room at large. She took another puff of smoke before responding, her husky voice wry and with a teasing edge.

"Not gonna kick me out on my arse, are you?" Spike considered her for a moment, before deciding that he'd try and figure her out a little.

"I never turn out a pretty girl. Tell me though, poppet; you from home?" She laughed lightly, and the appearance of a smile did wonders for her face. He'd been trying to place the odd accent to her voice – it sounded British, but at the same time didn't. It was strange.

"Not personally, though my Da did. Raised me on this side of the pond all by his lonesome, so I learned to speak the way he did."

"That'd account for the bit of an American accent then, yeah?" She smiled again, and nodded at the bottle still grasped in his hand.

"Gonna buy a girl a drink?" Spike laughed at that, and it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't genuinely laughed in a very long time. Hopping up on the sarcophagus beside her, he figured sharing a bottle was a much better plan for what was left of the night than drinking alone in misery.


	3. Time to Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

Buffy found herself in front of his crypt. Again. Every time she promised herself that she'd have a nice, quiet patrol that didn't involve smoochies of the Spike kind... She somehow always found herself at the door to his crypt. It seemed so wrong that what was supposed to be the final resting place of the dead had become her safe haven. But what was really wrong, was how _not_ wrong it felt. _Geez, I'm not even making sense to myself anymore._ Kicking the door in by way of her customary fashion, she was momentarily surprised to find him on the upper level, as the sun had yet to set. 

"Slayer." He greeted dryly, not even looking up from the bag of pig's blood he was squeezing into a mug. Buffy blinked while she tried to come up with a worthwhile excuse for why she was there. _What about last night's weirdness? That's a totally valid excuse._

"What do you know about all this time travel mumbo jumbo?" She began in her no-nonsense voice. He raised a brow at her in that way that secretly drove her crazy before he carried his mug with him to the arm chair.

"Never seen it happen before, though I'd heard of it, of course." His voice was musing, not seeming as freaked out about the whole thing as she and the Scoobies were. She frowned.

"Am I the only one _completely_ unaware that this was even possible?" She asked, annoyance ringing clearly in her tone. He smirked at her, and took a sip of his blood without answering. _Damn stupid sexy vampire with his stupid sexy smirky face._ Buffy decided she'd change her tactic. "What about this 'Arielle'? Who the hell decided she was in charge? I don't like it." Buffy was aware that she was complaining like a child, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Spike just shrugged his shoulders.

"She's not a bad bird, once you get'ta know her." Buffy glared at him, jealously making an unexpected appearance. _No! I am not jealous. You have to care to be jealous._

"So you've 'gotten to know her', have you?" Spike's eyes lifted to meet hers.

"That a bit o' the 'green eyed monster' I hear in your voice, Slayer?" She could hear amusement in his voice, but underneath that she could hear the hope and yearning.

"Ugh. You wish." She scoffed harshly, and watched something die in his eyes. "I want to know what you found out about her; I need to know what I'm dealing with." Spike's eyes narrowed at her, which threw her a bit.

"First of all, she's a _she_ not a _what_." There was a hint of anger to his voice, and it put her on edge. "Secondly, I don' rightly give a fuck what you want'ta know. Ask her your bloody self, if you're so sodding curious." Spike rose and stomped over to the door, holding it open. "So, since I'm so obviously of no use to you then, time to go."

Buffy just stared at him in shock. Spike hadn't lashed out at her quite like that in a long time... Normally he was too busy making moon eyes at her or trying to kiss her senseless. _Just what, exactly, went on between him and Arielle last night?_ Frowning in thought, she let her feet carry her out the door.

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Spike let out the breath he'd been holding as he closed the door behind her. He had no idea why he'd lost it on Buffy like that, but he had to admit that it had been a bit... liberating. She only ever came to him when she wanted information, or when she wanted sex. He supposed it was just too bloody difficult for her to show her face just for the sake of being with him. _Keep that dream to yourself, old boy. Slayer won' ever be yours._ A clanking sound from the trap door to the underground drew his attention, just as Arielle's sleepy face came poking up from the hole.

"Dusk yet?" She inquired huskily, rubbing a hand over her eyes. Spike couldn't help but smile at the sight. She scampered her way out of the trap door, one of his button-ups hanging loosely over her dark denims. The sleeves hung past her small hands, and she absent mindedly began to roll them up to her elbows.

"Jus' about sundown. Fancy somethin' to nosh?" She raised a brow at him.

"A vampire that keeps human food in stock?" She inquired dryly. His brows furrowed.

"Oh... Right. I've got some wheaty-things that I like to mix in with the blood. Not much else, though." She laughed, gracing him with a smile.

"Any all-night diners around?" She asked. Spike could have smacked himself. _Of course._ He sent her a rueful grin.

"Sure we could ferret one out, poppet."

"Good, I'm famished."

"Does anyone use the word 'famished' anymore?" He mused cheekily. She pushed him lightly as they exited the crypt.

"Shove off." She chuckled as she said it, and his dead heart felt lighter than it had in ages. The late-night diner that they found served breakfast foods, and he marveled at the mountain of pancakes she was drizzling with syrup.

"You can' possibly eat all that." His voice was incredulous. She smirked at him, and dove in. Forty-five minutes later, he was aghast to see that her plate was completely empty. "Can' tell if I'm impressed or disgusted." He said. Her laughter rang out like bells.

"I'll take impressed." She responded with a grin. "Come on, time to work." He sent her a confused glance, but she merely threw down some bills on the table and motioned for him to follow her. They strolled along contentedly, Spike allowing her to lead the way out of curiosity. When they arrived at the front of The Magic Box, he frowned.

"You sure I'm needed for this..." His voice was reluctant. Her face softened with understanding, and she gripped the sleeve of his duster as if to keep him from running away.

"I'll always need you." She said simply, before opening the door to enter the shop. Spike stared after her for a minute, thinking to himself. _Wonder if I'll ever figure her out._ The bell above the door tinkled lightly as he pushed his way in, and he saw that Arielle's entrance had already drawn the Scoobies' notice. In particular, he noticed the glare Buffy was throwing at her.

"Didn't think to bring a suitcase through your little time portal?" Buffy bit out while glaring at Spike's shirt that Arielle was still wearing. Her comment caused a few of her friends to glance at her in curiosity, and Spike found himself suppressing a smile. Arielle smirked at her easily.

"Spilled some scotch on my shirt last night." Her voice was calm, with just the hint of an edge to it. The smile left Spike's face as he glanced back and forth between the two women, debating if he should be separating them or something. Buffy's face lit with anger, but she didn't say anything more. "Somethig bothering you, dear?" No answer. "Isn't there a Djinn you should be dealing with?" Spike glanced at Arielle, wondering just what in the hell she was doing. It was almost as if she was... baiting the Slayer. But why?

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"He'll keep." Buffy bit out, never tearing her eyes from the annoying bitch. Like hell was she going to leave her with Spike. _Thinks she can just show up here, in MY vampire's clothing._ All of the sudden, Buffy realized what was happening... She was jealous. Her face drained of blood, going completely pale. _No... But... Jealousy means I care. I can't care about Spike! He's evil, and... and dead!_ Suddenly, Arielle's smirking face seemed more calculated. It was as if she was intentionally riling Buffy up... But why? Giles chose that moment to speak up, obviously trying to diffuse the tension in the room.

"I'm curious, Arielle. I should wish to know more about this 'weapon' that you mentioned yesterday." He pulled out a chair at the table they were all sitting around, and motioned for her to take a seat. Arielle pulled a cigarette out of her pocket, flicking a silver Zippo lighter and inhaling. Buffy frowned even more.

"You can't smoke in here." She said crossly. Arielle stared her directly in the eyes as she took another drag, before shrugging and pulling the cigarette from her lips. They all cringed when she put it out on her right forearm, making a small circular burn in the skin.

"...Doesn't that hurt?" Dawn asked timidly. Personally, Buffy just thought that this girl was seriously messed up. Arielle gave Dawn a kind smile.

"Wouldn't suggest you do it, pet." She said wryly. Buffy stared at her, completely thrown by her behavior. Arielle walked over to the seat that Giles had pulled out, but didn't sit in it. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked him. Giles just looked confused.

"I... I don't believe so." In his trademark way, he took his glasses off and began to clean them. Arielle frowned at them all.

"Aren't you gonna offer Spike a chair?" Her tone of voice was almost daring them. Giles frowned.

"Nonsense." He protested. "If Spike wanted a seat, he'd just take one." Arielle's frown didn't go away. Buffy saw from the corner of her vision that Spike was still as a statue, watching carefully everything that was going on.

"I'd love to say I was disappointed in you, Watcher... But I thoroughly expected this kind of rudeness from the lot of you." Giles began sputtering, but she didn't let him speak. "Common courtesy dictates that if you offer a seat to one guest, you offer it to _all_ of your guests!" Her voice had risen, as if she was teaching a group of wayward children. Buffy wanted to be upset about it, but she could admit in her own mind that Arielle was right. And it just about killed her to admit that, even if it was just to herself.

"Who the hell do you think you are, giving us lectures?" Xander piped up angrily. Arielle's face was cold when she turned to him. She pulled out a vacant chair, then sat herself in the one that Giles had originally offered her. Spike quietly sat himself in the one she had pulled out beside her, no emotion whatsoever on his face.

"Might I remind you, Whelp, that your survival through the coming apocalypse is entirely dependent upon keeping me happy?" She rested her arms on the arms of the chair, looking like a queen holding court. "You were told that you needed to demonstrate to me a quality that makes humanity _worthy_ of saving. I don't believe that rudeness or bigotry are that quality." Xander stared at her with a mutinous expression on his face. "Lesson over. Now, down to business." Buffy glanced around the table, seeing the shock on everyone's faces. She knew that they expected her to speak up on their behalf, that she was supposed to say that Spike was evil and soulless and therefore not worthy of politeness. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't force the words to form, to see that broken expression appear in his eyes.

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For what may have been the first time since his rebirth as the undead, Spike found himself remaining utterly silent and watching the events unfold around him. Arielle's defense of him had completely unmade him. Spike couldn't remember the last time someone had defended him, had believed that he deserved respect and courtesy. She crossed her long legs, looking just like the regal ladies he'd been surrounded with in his human life. The sight brought a small smile to his lips.

"To answer your original inquiry, Watcher, the 'weapon' I referred to is what will win this coming war for the good guys." Spike could see that the rest of them were debating whether or not to take her at face value.

"I'm afraid that's just not enough detail." Giles was using what Spike liked to refer to as his 'librarian' voice. Arielle didn't back down even an inch.

"I'm afraid it will just have to be." Giles looked like he'd been crowned with a tire iron. It took all of Spike's limited restraint to not laugh in his face. "Now. Slayer, you will find your Djinn friend in an abandoned warehouse near the edge of town. Watcher, it might be useful for you to drum up any and all information on a nasty that goes by the name Ahnshyr'k." Giles popped up and began to rummage through the dusty tomes on the shelves. "Witch." Both Willow and Tara glanced up at her, making Spike smile again.

"For the sake of less confusion, I usually split 'em up." He drawled and she glanced up at him. "That's Red," He pointed at Willow. "An' that's Glinda." He motioned to Tara. Arielle smiled at him with just the slightest quirk of her lips.

"Alright, then." She turned back to the witches. "Red. I've a list of items that need to be collected, by _any_ means necessary." Willow smiled. "Glinda, you're to keep her magical usage in line." Willow's smile disappeared. Tara looked like a mouse about to be caught in a trap. _Apparently I'm not the only one noticing Red's lack of control these days._

"Gonna try and order me around, too?" Xander angrily demanded to know. Arielle seemed to ignore him.

"Dawn." The Bit's eyes widened.

"M-me?" She swallowed nervously, and Arielle sent her a gentle smile.

"Take a walk with me, pet." She stood and motioned to the door. Buffy looked as though she was about to protest. "Your sister is safer with me than anyone."

As the two of them slipped quietly out into the night, Spike's brow furrowed in thought. The girl kept surprising him, a feat that very few could accomplish. _What task could she possibly have for the Bit?_


	4. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

It had been almost a month. A _month_. Buffy stared at Arielle from across the Magic Box, grumbling away in her mind over the girl's presence. What irritated her the most was that, in the almost-month that Arielle had been around, she had been constantly at Spike's side. _Better than freaking super glue._ It had been rare for Buffy to find Spike alone, and whenever she did he seemed a lot less willing to... 'put out', as it were. 

Buffy had given up on trying to deny her jealousy... Well, to herself anyways. Like hell she'd admit it out loud. But that was also the one thing that was tipping her off to the fact that not all was as it seemed when it came to Arielle. Buffy didn't know why, but she suspected that Arielle _wanted_ her to be jealous. The girl had been consistently snotty to her, Giles, and especially Xander; but to Spike, Dawn, Anya, and Tara she was as sweet as damn pie. The only odd one out when it came to Arielle's attitude seemed to be Willow. She was always... reserved, or wary or something. She talked to Willow like she was waiting for something to happen. Buffy didn't quite know what to think of that.

As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, it wasn't all bad. Arielle had proven herself to be one hell of a fighter whenever she'd randomly popped up during patrol. It was a weird feeling; hating the girl, but respecting her skills... And that small bit of admiration made it really hard for Buffy to _truly_ hate her.

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It had been nearly a month. It was strange how much one's life could change in what was, to a vampire, a very short amount of time. Spike had spent a great deal of that time with Arielle, and it had been a breath of fresh air to him. Whenever the crushing weight of his feelings for Buffy - and her scorn of those feelings - became too much for him, Arielle seemed to magically appear to cheer him up. His unlife had become tolerable once again.

He'd been slowly learning things about her, during the weeks she'd been around. He knew that when she was nervous, the only outward sign of it was a quick reach for a fag and her lighter. When she was amused, a dimple appeared on her left cheek. She preferred to sit in silence, as if she constantly had things on her mind. But his biggest accomplishment in figuring her out was the eyes. It had taken a lot of time, but Spike had finally caught the trend of those strange eyes of hers - every time Arielle got emotional over something, her eyes would swirl in that wonderful flash of blue. It seemed to happen most often when the Whelp spewed some nonsense that irritated her. Spike felt one corner of his lips curl in amusement when she attempted to teach Dawn the proper way to hold a dagger.

"You realize it's a bloody miracle that the Slayer hasn't put a stop to this by now." His voice was droll, but the words were true nonetheless. He was surprised when Buffy spoke in response.

"If she was teaching her wrong, then I would." There was an almost grudging admiration in the Slayer's voice. Spike also had high regard for Arielle's skill in combat; the one time he had asked her where she'd learned it all, she had merely replied 'someone special'. Her style reminded him a little of Buffy... It was the way she danced. Arielle gazed at Dawn after the Bit perfected a swiping move with the dagger, her eyes flashing and swirling with her glee.

"You're pleased as punch." He commented lightly. Xander frowned at that.

"How can you tell? She's not even smiling!" Arielle shared an exasperated look with him.

"The eyes, Whelp. It's always in the eyes." Xander looked confused, which only made Spike chuckle. Arielle came to sit on the arm of the chair that he was slouched in, and rested her arm across the back behind his head. Spike watched as Buffy's eyes narrowed at their closeness, a small part of him taking hope from her apparent jealousy. _Jealousy means she cares, yeah?_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy tried to stop herself from glaring them down. _They certainly got all buddy-buddy quickly._ Instead, she tried to concentrate on Arielle alone, wanting to figure her out. Normally when some entity or prophecy came calling with tales of doom, the event itself was usually on the 'soon' horizon. This seemed to be taking forever, in comparison.

"I've gotta ask," Buffy began, and all eyes turned to her. "Usually when an apocalypse makes itself known to us, it tends to be more of the... immediate... persuasion. What gives with all the plotting time for us?" Buffy could almost swear that she saw Arielle's lips twitch, but chose not to comment. The girl _never_ smiled at her, unless it was that annoying smirk.

"It's because I purposely brought myself to you this early." Arielle explained. "Had I not, it's most likely you would be operating on your short but usual timeline." That made some sense.

"So, what's the deal, then? Did the Powers send you because we failed to stop it in your future? But then, wouldn't you not be alive because of the whole downfall of humanity thing?" Willow was apparently full of the questions, now that Buffy had opened the floor to them. Arielle frowned in thought.

"No, it never happened in my past." Buffy raised a brow at that, and she went on to explain. "The demon that will cause it is also able to shift through time; in my past he was otherwise occupied, but evidently he's decided to come here now for it."

"Why now?" Buffy asked.

"In some circles, in my time, you're legendary. I would imagine that he came to this point in time because he wants to be the one to take you down."

"Why wouldn't he just go after me in your time?" Buffy had wondered a lot just how far in the future Arielle was from.

"Because in my time, you're dead." That didn't really give Buffy anything to work with. Given the short 'use by' date usually put on Slayer lives, that could still be almost any time in the future.

"When are you from?" Buffy asked.

"I can't tell you that." Personally, she was getting really tired of that answer. Before Buffy could quiz her more, however, Arielle patted Spike on the shoulder and got up from her perch. "Toddling on now."

"Be home in a bit." Spike said, and nodded at her. The answer made Buffy's chest hurt; she didn't want to examine closely why. Xander stared at Spike disbelievingly after Arielle had disappeared out the door.

"Is she... _living_ with you?" He burst out, incredulous. Spike shrugged casually.

"Bird's gotta sleep somewhere." It hurt. Buffy's heart totally, completely hurt... And she had no idea how to deal with it. When Spike propelled himself out of the chair and grabbed for his duster, Dawn was there to give him a fierce hug. The soft look that came over Spike's face as he tentatively squeezed Dawn back made Buffy pause; it hadn't fully struck her until then how much he treasured physical displays of affection. Pretty soft, for the once Big Bad.

"See ya tomorrow!" Dawn said cheerfully. Buffy tramped down her miserable feelings to focus on her sister. Raising an eyebrow, she called to Dawn.

"You've been awfully... huggy... with him lately." Dawn shrugged, but looked uncomfortable. Buffy moved closer so that the conversation was just between the two of them. "Seriously, what gives?" Dawn looked down towards the floor.

"It's my job..." She said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Buffy was totally confused.

"You remember when Arielle said she had a task for me?" Buffy nodded. She'd been curious about that conversation for awhile.

"She told me that the best way that I could help with the whole apocalypse thing was to help Spike." Buffy frowned.

"Help Spike do what?"

"Help him _survive_. Those were her exact words. Spike had been really miserable before Arielle showed up, and she said that a strong fighter had to also have a strong mind." Dawn took a deep breath, and continued. "She asked me if I loved him, and I told her that he was like the greatest big brother that I never had. She said that the way to help him have a stronger mind was to show him how much I like having him around." Dawn finished nervously, obviously waiting for Buffy's reaction.

Buffy wasn't sure just _what_ to say. Somehow, in the first day of being with them, Arielle had recognized what Buffy had been denying to herself... The fact that they were losing Spike. Buffy had been able to see it; with every venomous word that she spit at him, every punch that she dealt him, Spike had been slipping further and further away. By having Dawn reassure Spike that he was loved and needed by at least _someone_ , Arielle was bringing Spike back from the edge of despair. Despair that Buffy, herself, was responsible for. Buffy nodded her head at Dawn, trying not to let emotion choke her voice.

"Good... She's right." And it cost Buffy more than the rest of them would ever know to admit that.

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Spike shut the crypt door quietly, unsure whether or not Arielle would still be awake. After leaving the Magic Box, he'd run by the butcher's to nick himself some more pig's blood. It was reaching close to sunrise now, and he could feel weariness pulling at his bones. He tossed his duster over the back of his beaten-in armchair, and ran a hand over his face in tiredness. A creak by the trap door brought his head around to see Arielle's concerned face.

"Tired?" He nodded and collapsed into the chair as she joined him on the upper level. He could hear her rustling around in his makeshift kitchen, and soon the scent of warm blood filled his nostrils. She smiled as she handed him a mug. "Ninety-eight point six." There was a teasing quality in her voice.

"How did you know about that?" He questioned, while eagerly taking the mug from her hands. He saw her smile slip a little before she turned and began to make herself a cuppa.

"Listen..." Though he could only see her tense back, Spike could hear remorse in her voice. "I have to tell you something." She sat on the floor in front of his chair, cradling her tea and sorrow in her eyes.

"Wha's the matter, poppet?" He frowned, everything in him screaming to try and make it all better. She sighed heavily.

"In my time, I knew you." Spike's brow furrowed in thought, but given his immortality it was entirely likely that they could have crossed paths in her past... His future.

"Brilliant." He didn't know what else to say, really. She shook her head, and he knew there was something else he didn't know.

"You're... Or, I guess you _will_ be... My father." Spike stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending.

"But... Vampires can't..."

"Have children?" She finished for him. "You already know one who has." That _was_ true. Word had travelled about Peaches' miraculous spawn. "I think you'll find that when the Powers want something, any rule is fair game to be broken." He nodded, it made sense.

"That explains it..." He mused, more to himself than anything. She looked confused. "It explains why I've taken to you so quickly. I've known since the first time I saw you that there was something drawing me to you. Couldn't bloody well figure out what, though."

"To be honest," She said, sounding a little dumbfounded. "I thought you were going to take more convincing." He laughed at that.

"Oh? Just what were you planning to use as your evidence, then?" He chuckled. She sent him a wry grin, and tossed him something from her pocket. Opening the hand that had caught the small object, he saw that it was her silver lighter. Pulling out his own, he compared them and found identical scratches in identical places. "This is mine..." He observed, before tossing the one lighter back to her.

"Hmm." She agreed, lighting up a fag with slightly shaking hands. Something she'd said earlier caught his attention.

"You said 'knew'." She kept her eyes averted, despite the underlying command in his tone.

"Huss'at?" She asked, her innocent tone of voice not fooling him for a second.

"You said that you 'knew' me in your time. Past tense." She glanced up at him, and her eyes swirled in sorrow. He swallowed hard.

"You're... Gone." Spike wasn't sure that he wanted the details, but curiosity pulled at him.

"How old were you when I... when I dusted?" She closed her eyes, cutting him off from the chaos of colours.

"Seventeen." The grief in her voice nearly unmade him.

"Bloody... You were just a babe!" She smirked a little at his outburst.

"Hardly." He rolled his eyes.

"To someone like me, that's little more than a child." He eyed her curiously then. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty-three." That meant she'd been without her father - without _him_ \- for six years. She seemed to know what was going on in his thoughts.

"I almost broke down when I first heard your voice the night that I came here..." She was staring off into the distance, those gorgeous eyes continuing their mad dance of colour. "I hadn't heard you speak in so long. When I was little, you used to put me to bed by telling me stories." Spike smiled softly, trying to picture the scene in his mind.

"What was your favourite?" He asked quietly. Something to keep in mind for the future, he supposed. She sighed, but followed it with a sad smile.

"Beauty and the Beast."

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Buffy pushed open Spike's crypt door instead of kicking it like usual. She didn't know why, but some instinct was telling her to go quietly. Maybe it was because of all the talk about Arielle staying with Spike yesterday, but Buffy had felt the need to swing by the crypt in the daylight. Seeing no one around on the top level, she made her way through the trap door as quietly as possible.

When she reached the bottom, though, she began to really regret it. Spike and Arielle were both sleeping peacefully in his bed, the comforter and sheets kicked down to the floor. _Look at this objectively_ , logical-Buffy told her. _They're both wearing clothes._ It was true. Arielle was clad in a pair of black sweatpants that looked a couple sizes too big for her and a black tank top, while Spike had on his usual black tee and jeans. _Wearing of clothing means there was no naughty business... Right?_

Buffy felt like her heart was sinking into her stomach as she watched the two continue in their peaceful slumbering. Spike looked so... content. He hadn't looked so at ease in a very long time; not until Arielle had shown up, at least. Buffy left the two to their sleep and climbed back up to the main floor of the crypt, feeling as if she were on the verge of tears.

 _Oh God... I love him._ She couldn't deny it to herself any longer, not when the sight of him with another woman was tearing her up inside. _I love him, and all that I've accomplished is to treat him like dirt and drive him away from me. Stupid, Buffy. Very stupid._ Rubbing a hand over the ache in her chest as she exited into the sunlight, Buffy felt tears welling up. She hadn't cried in what felt like forever, and now she was because of her own stupidity.

The saviour of humanity was an idiot, indeed.


	5. A Matter of Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

Buffy felt miserable. There wasn't really any other way to term it; she was just absolutely, abjectly, _miserable_. Since her revelation that she was in love with Spike – and that it was far too late to have him, because she'd already driven him away – Buffy had been sulking. They'd all noticed her change in attitude, of course. Dawn kept sending her worried looks, Giles was constantly doing his stern-stare-clean-glasses combo, and the rest of the Scoobies were treating her like she was glass. She _hated_ that. 

And to make it all worse, the closeness between Arielle and Spike seemed to have only gotten… well, _closer_. Before it had seemed like there was still a barrier of unfamiliarity between them, but lately it seemed as if that barrier had just disappeared. Buffy equal parts wished she knew what had caused it, but also seriously _didn't_ want to know. Her heart might not have been able to handle it.

"I've been wondering…" Tara hesitantly spoke up as they were all seated around the table in the Magic Box researching, yet _again_. All eyes turned to her, but Tara's eyes were fixed firmly on Arielle. "What's your tattoo mean?" Buffy's eyes flicked to Arielle's forearm, where the intricate design was visible due to her rolled-up sleeves. The girl's eyes did that freaky swirly-thing before she answered.

"It may look like a design," She began. "but it's actually a series of letters and numbers that are inter-woven."

"What do they stand for?" Dawn asked curiously, bending forward over the table to try and get a better look at the tattoo. Arielle smiled at Dawn, but to Buffy it seemed like it was a sad smile.

"My name, my birthday, My father's name, and the day he… died." Buffy felt a painful tug at her heart when Spike grasped the back of Arielle's neck in a comforting gesture.

"Your father's gone?" Tara's voice was full of sympathy. "What about your mother?" Arielle's face turned hard, and the abrupt change startled Buffy a little.

"She was never in the picture to begin with." Spike seemed to go still at Arielle's words, and Buffy briefly wondered why before Giles was calling everyone's attention back to their research.

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Spike was tired. Considering he was a vamp, and thereby usually had energy to spare, it still unnerved him just how drained he was lately. He sat out on the front step of the Magic Box, smoking a fag idly and letting his mind wander. Though Arielle had told him the truth about the fact that he was her father, the rest of the details of her life were few and far between. She seemed reluctant to tell him anything, and some of his questions she would flatly refuse to answer. Her comment that evening about her mother's apparent absence from her life had struck him; just who was this woman that would become the mother of his child? The romantic in him wanted to believe it was Buffy, but he told himself that was just a foolish dream. If Buffy ever found out she was pregnant with his child, she would probably kill herself on principle. _There's a happy bloody thought, you wanker._

"…Hey." Buffy's quiet voice sounding from just behind him startled him out of his morose thoughts. She hesitantly sat beside him on the step, and he raised a brow over her behaviour. _Since when is the stubborn bint unsure around the likes of me?_ He switched the smoke to his other hand, keeping it from drifting into her face. She sat there quietly for a moment, staring up at the stars while he stared at her. When she finally spoke, it wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. "It's not quite the same as my back porch, huh?" He reluctantly smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. The kind of quiet that could spring up between them when sitting on her back step was special, to say the least.

"Hmm. Moments of peace between vampires and vampire slayers do tend to be on the rare side." He replied dryly. The corner of her lips twitched in a smile.

"I guess it's something that I save for you these days." Spike's entire body seemed to still at her words. It had to have been one of the nicest things that Buffy had voluntarily said to him, and the small smile that remained on her lips told him it was genuine. He stared at her incredulously, unsure what to say. He was petrified that the wrong words would shatter the moment between them. The smile slipped away from her face, and she turned to look at him straight on. Her emerald eyes held him in a trance; Spike didn't think he could look away from her if his unlife depended upon it. "I've… missed you, lately." He blinked in shock.

"…Has Red laid her mojo on you again?" He could have kicked himself for the words that slipped out before he thought them through, but thankfully Buffy only laughed lightly at them.

"No, not to my knowledge." She frowned a little then. "But her magic usage is definitely getting of the concern-worthy." Spike had to agree with that one. Any time that Red got a little extra-supernatural, Arielle had instantly gone on edge. Spike hazarded a guess that his dear daughter knew something about it that she wasn't sharing quite yet. Buffy took a breath before speaking again. "So… You and Arielle seem to be getting along." Her eyes darted up to his, but quickly flicked away to look at the sky again.

"Yeah…" He started hesitantly. "She's brilliant." Buffy nodded her head.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I think if she didn't annoy me so much I could really like her." Spike smiled at that. "She reminds me a lot of you. Guess she's just picked up the attitude from all the time you've spent together, huh?" Spike grinned to himself. _You don't know the half of it, darling._

"Tends to happen." His reply was vague, since he wasn't sure that Arielle wanted him sharing their relation as of yet. Buffy huffed out a breath, and he could see she was getting frustrated at his answers. _Imagine that._

"So you guys are really… close… then?" She tried again. Spike realized with a bit of amazement that she actually cared about the answer.

"Close? I suppose so, yeah. She's… important to me."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy deflated a bit at his answer. Arielle was 'important' to him? That spoke of a serious connection between the two of them. _Can I really get in between that? I mean, the guy's finally happy… I can't try to ruin that._ Buffy sent him a slightly shaky smile.

"Well… I'm glad. That you… you know, have that." Spike looked confused, but Buffy really just wanted to escape the conversation at that point. _You just HAD to know, didn't you, Buff._ She had just risen to her feet when Arielle came bursting out the door of the shop, the Scoobies hot on her tail.

"We have to go." She said to Buffy, her face tense. Buffy frowned.

"What's the sitch?" She asked, putting herself into Slayer-all-business mode. Arielle seemed to grimace.

"Ahnshyr'k, the big nasty that's coming for you, is about to touch down in town." She said. Buffy began to quickly walk beside her, as Spike fell into place somewhere behind them.

"I gotta say," Buffy began. "if this is the final showdown, we're seriously under-prepared. We don't even have that weapon that you keep insisting we're gonna get." Arielle shook her head.

"No, this'll be more of a pre-emptive move to scope you out. He's not gonna take on the Legendary Slayer without a bit of soddin' intel." Buffy could see the logic in that. It wouldn't be the first time that some Big Bad had popped up unexpectedly just to get a look at her. Hell, Spike himself had even done it that night in the alley outside the Bronze, way back when. They quickly arrived at one of the old graveyards just on the outskirts of town, and Arielle handed her a stake and an axe that she had been carrying.

"Aren't you gonna need these?" Buffy asked her, noticing that the only weapon Arielle now had was the dagger strapped to her thigh. Arielle smiled grimly at her, and it made a chill run down Buffy's spine.

"I'm good." Was all she said. The ground began to vibrate under Buffy's feet, and she knew that they were getting close to show time. Lightning began to arc across the sky, and deafening booms of thunder rolled in, though no rain appeared to accompany it. In the time it took to blink, a hulking figure stood in the centre of the graveyard, surrounded by smaller minion-like creatures. Ahnshyr'k was massive; dressed in long robes, the only really visible part of him was his head. He had two wickedly sharp looking horns that curved toward the sky, and his skin tone was a mottled purple. The really wigsome thing about him though was his face… all _three_ of them.

"Ah, the Legendary Slayer." He said from all three mouths, his voice sounding like a combination of screeching nails on a chalkboard, demonic baritones, and frightening whispers. This guy was the epitome of the thing that goes 'bump in the dark', and it put Buffy immediately on edge. "Brought some company, I see." The Scoobies shifted nervously at her back, but Spike and Arielle were both still as statues on either side of her. "I'm sure you realize why I'm here… I prefer to study an opponent's skill before tackling them myself, you understand." With a click of his talon-like fingers, the minions around him sprung into action.

Buffy had always enjoyed a good fight. Usually, she would kick and punch, throw out a witty remark or two, and get the job done. It was the way she _danced_ , as Spike called it. But there was no enjoyment in this. This was dirty, fight-for-survival kind of battle, and it took all of her resources to set aside her worry for the Scoobies and her sister to focus on the job at hand. She hacked and slashed her way through the creatures, vaguely aware of the others doing the same around her. Until she heard the yell, that is.

Arielle had somehow gotten close to Ahnshyr'k, where he'd been watching them fight for their lives with a smirk on his face… or, _faces_ rather. Buffy could see now that one of his minions had gotten the best of Arielle, and pinned her rather harshly to the ground. Before the creature could level the final blow, however, an inhuman growl of rage rent the air around them all. Buffy was startled and a little bit frightened at the look on Spike's face. His eyes were locked on where the girl was pinned, and his face was like homicidal mania personified. His duster had been lost somewhere during the fighting, and his black t-shirt sported some rather nasty gashes. Blood leaked down the side of his face from a blow to the head, and an old battle axe was clenched in one of his fists. As Buffy and the others watched, Spike threw the axe dismissively to the ground and began stalking toward the minion still perched over Arielle.

"You _dare_ to touch what's MINE?" He raged, his eyes flashing golden with his demon, though he still wore his human face. He leapt at the creature, knocking it away from Arielle and gruesomely tearing it apart limb from limb with his bare hands. Buffy couldn't turn her eyes away from the slaughter… He was completely out of control, hell bent on destroying the thing in the most brutal way possible. Seeing the display was when it suddenly hit her: Spike had never – not once in their sordid history – truly wanted her dead. Watching him then only nailed it home to her that if Spike had ever _really_ wanted her six feet in the ground… She'd have been history. End of story.

When he was finished tearing the thing to pieces, a slow clapping drew everyone's attention. Ahnshyr'k looked thoughtful and interested, as he lowered his hands. Buffy's body tensed, waiting to see what would happen next. He clicked his fingers again, and the remainder of his minions disappeared.

"Well, now… Something for me to think about." He mused, staring at Spike where he was covered in the minion's blood from his savage attack. He turned his attention to Buffy then. "I'll be seeing you soon, Slayer." The lightning and thunder retreated with Ahnshyr'k, disappearing into thin air. Spike raced over to Arielle where she was still laid out on the ground, gathering her gently into his arms. _Now is NOT the time for jealousy, Buffy. She could really be hurt._

"You alright, poppet?" Spike murmured to the girl, as he shifted her into more of a sitting position. She coughed out a small laugh, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Nothin' a fifth o' scotch can't fix." She said with a painful grin.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike smiled in relief, glad that she wasn't seriously hurt. When he'd seen her pinned to the ground, about to be finished, something inside of him had snapped. He figured it was the more animal side of him that had led to his uncontrollable rampage. His demon had only seen that his child – his _property_ , in a sense – was in danger, and had taken over in the most brutal of ways. It was as if he had lost complete control of himself to the demon within. He rose to his feet, helping her up as well. He took a few steps to the side to retrieve the battle axe, and the Whelp backed away from him with a look of horror and disgust on his face.

"What the bleedin' hell's your problem?" Spike bit out, getting really sick of Xander's behaviour towards him.

"Don't come near me!" He insisted, and Spike could smell the fear and hate coming off of him in waves. Xander turned to Buffy, pointing a finger at where Spike was bending to pick up his beloved duster. "Don't you see it yet? We can't _trust_ him! Look at what he just did – he's just a demon like all the others! He'll tear us all to shreds if he gets the chance!" Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but Spike beat her to it. He'd had enough of it all; when the Whelp would start spouting his rubbish he would usually ignore it or only fight back with pithy comments, but now he had hit his limit.

"You listen here, boy, and you listen damn good." Spike bit out angrily, shocking them all into silence. "I have been here, helping your sorry lot, all the fucking way through! How many years have I been around, yeah? If I had wanted you all dead, you'd already be six feet in the bloody ground, make no mistake on that! It's like listening to a fucking broken record with you; all I ever hear are the same soddin' complaints, over and over. I've hit my fill, you hear me? I help all you wankers because you need the help, and I rarely ever expect a thing in return. In fact, what I usually get in return are insults and abuse. I'm fucking done! So you're gonna treat me with some of the goddamn respect I deserve, or you can just bloody well rot for all I care!" They all stared at him incredulously, hardly believing that the vampire had finally stood up for himself. Arielle smiled at him, and leaned against his shoulder in a one-armed hug.

"One down, two to go." She mused dryly. They looked at her in confusion. "I told you at the beginning: three human qualities were necessary. One from the lot of you, one from the Slayer, one from Spike." Dawn spoke up timidly.

"…What exactly was Spike's?" She asked. Spike had to admit, he was a bit confused as to how his whole tirade applied as a 'human quality'. Arielle's smile only widened, and she turned eyes spinning with glee up to his.

"Self-respect." She said simply.


	6. Eternal Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

"…Self-respect." Spike's voice was disbelieving, but he couldn't help it. He and Arielle had returned to his crypt, much to the Slayer's displeasure, as she'd wanted a tad more information. He raised a tumbler of scotch to his mouth, swallowing the bitter liquid down quickly. Arielle smirked at him, her own drink disappearing at a much more sedate pace. "An' how, exactly, is my gaining some 'self-respect' proving to you that humanity is worth savin'? I'm no' exactly human, am I." She laughed at that, seeming unconcerned over his observation. 

"All in good time, Da." She assured him. It still threw Spike for a bit of a loop when she openly referred to him as her father. It was rare, and only when they were alone, but it served to remind him that somehow this wonderful girl was _his_. She'd said when they first met that she'd been raised by her father, and now that he knew the truth that meant that she'd been raised by _him_. No wonder he liked her so much.

"Tell me somethin'…" He said as a thought occurred to him. "I died a virgin, and've since been an unholy creature of the night, so just where in the bleedin' hell did I learn to raise a half-human child?" Her lips twitched, and she reluctantly answered.

"You had help, in the early years." Her husky voice was fond, even as her smile turned slightly sad.

"Who?" He asked, having a difficult time picturing it. _Not like one can just post an advert in the papers reading 'Undead father seeks full-time nanny unafraid of blood loss', can one?_

"My aunt." Was her simple answer. He decided not to push on the identity of said 'aunt', as he'd learned from previous experience that she would only shut down.

"You said 'early years'." He mused. She raised a brow quizzically at him. "You said I had help 'in the early years'. What about later?" What was left of the smile disappeared from her face completely.

"Later… it was just us. But we got along well enough." She assured him quickly. Pouring himself another drink, Spike decided to leave it at that… for the time being.

"About this weapon…" He began, hoping to draw a little more information out of her. "What kind is it, exactly? A sword? Axe? What?" He could see in her eyes that she was choosing her words carefully, before a triumphant smirk graced her face.

"It's an unstoppable killing machine." Was all she said. _Bloody hell… 'S worse than pulling teeth._ Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Let's say that by some miracle the idiot convention pulls through and proves their human qualities to you…" He said, ignoring the snort of disbelief that she let out. "How do we go about getting it, then?" Her face turned grave, and he knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Sacrifices will need to be made…" She was hedging, he could tell.

"Sacrifices by _who_?" He demanded. She looked reluctant to answer, but knew that he wasn't gonna let up anytime soon.

"…You." She said. Spike took a moment to let that one sink in, considering her words carefully. Sacrificing had always been the Slayer's usual method, up to that point; he'd never _really_ had to sacrifice much during his less-than-scrupulous unlife. _First time for everything, yeah?_

"What kind of 'sacrifice'?" He asked, curiosity peaked despite himself. Arielle's stare was level and serious.

"Your very existence."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy huffed out a sigh. The night had grown progressively warmer, and the mugginess felt like it was suffocating her. She'd already ditched the denim jacket that she'd worn over her purple tank, and it didn't get much cooler than the floaty black skirt that she was wearing, but still she felt the need to crawl out of her skin.

Patrol had been boring and uneventful thus far, which the rest of the world would probably see as a _good_ thing, but to Buffy it just made the night tedious. Needless to say, when she spotted Spike sitting on a tombstone quietly contemplating the sky, it was a welcome distraction. Sitting herself on the next one over, so that she was facing him, she took a moment to study his face.

It wasn't often that Buffy was given the opportunity to see Spike so completely unguarded – if he hadn't been so distracted by what he was apparently thinking about, she might not have even seen it this time. His beautiful eyes were turned up to the stars, staring at them as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders; it was a feeling that Buffy knew only too well. He was slumped a little, a lit cigarette that he'd obviously forgotten about little more than ash in between his fingers. He finally seemed to register her presence, blinking as if coming out of a trance.

"You're all… contemplatey." She observed, mostly in hopes that he'd share his thoughts. His eyes flicked quickly over her outfit, sending a thrill of… _something_ shooting through her, but soon rested his gaze on her face. That was one thing that Buffy had always secretly appreciated about Spike: as much of a horn-dog as he liked to pretend to be, he was actually pretty respectful of her… It must have been a throwback to his Victorian upbringing. He chuckled a little, but it had no feeling to it.

"S'pose so." He mused in answer to her. "Just… mulling a few things over." She frowned a little in confusion. She had the sense that something serious was giving him the wiggins, but couldn't figure out just _what_.

"Feel like sharing and caring?" She asked, feeling a bit awkward. It hadn't been often in their messed up past that they'd had the _big discussions_ , and she wasn't exactly practiced at it. Especially not with _him_. He quirked an eyebrow in that way that had always driven her nuts, and she knew what he was silently asking. "Look…" She began, unsure of where to start. "I know that I've always been… Well, let's be honest. I've been a complete bitch to you, pretty much since day one. In my own defense, those first few years you _were_ threatening to kill me, so some of it can kind of be excused." The barest hint of a smile graced his face.

"I suppose." He conceded dryly, making her smile.

"But…" She continued. "These last few years, you really haven't deserved all of the… _abuse_ … that I've been slinging at you. I know that this whole speech is kind of eons too late, and not really that great, but I figured I owed it to you anyways. You've helped us out so much, and you've been there for me when I really needed someone the most… The others, they could never understand what it was like. But you understood. We may have been raised from the dead as different creatures, but we were both _raised from the dead._ That's some messed up wackiness that my friends will never get. And… I guess what I'm trying to say is that… I'm sorry. I'm _so sorry_." She couldn't help it; tears started to pool in her eyes, and no matter how hard she fought them, they began to slip down her cheeks.

"Buffy…" His voice sounded shocked, but she cut him off. She needed to get it all out.

"I know I don't deserve any kind of forgiveness for what I've put you through… But, I think I really need a friend right now. Can you… Can you be my friend?" She scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks, hating how weak they made her feel. Her eyes were lowered to the ground, afraid that she would see only disgust and hatred in his face for what she'd done to him. She jerked slightly when she felt his cold hands cup her cheeks, brushing tears away with his thumbs and raising her gaze to meet his own.

"Oh, love… 'Course I can." There was a hint of a smile pulling at the edge of his lips, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the soft look in his eyes.

"…How?" She asked. "How can you just set aside how horrible I've been?" He dropped his hands away from her face, and she found herself missing the touch. It hadn't been often that she had allowed him to touch her in anything even _resembling_ tenderness. She hadn't wanted to feel anything but lust, before… She hadn't wanted to believe that what he felt for her was real. _Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?_

"Because you apologized." He said simply. She looked at him, dumbfounded.

"That's it?" She asked, stupefied that he would make it so easy.

"Buffy… I know how difficult that was for you. You're not the type of bird who apologizes easily, and never to a demon like me. The fact that you gave me the words was huge in of itself." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his duster, seeming to be at a loss for what to do with them. She knew the feeling.

"…Thank you." She was honestly grateful. Her heart bled for the fact that he seemed to have moved on from his love for her, but she was eternally grateful that he would still at least be her friend. She hadn't completely lost him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike stared down at the Slayer's up-turned face, drinking in her beauty whilst his mind struggled to comprehend what exactly had just happened. Not only had Buffy's apology been heartfelt and thoroughly unexpected, but she had asked for his friendship. The quiet moments that would occasionally crop up between them in the past had always struck close to something akin to friendship, but had never quite made the mark. For her to openly acknowledge that she needed him in some way made him feel as though his dead heart just might beat again.

She awkwardly scampered to her feet, breaking him out of his contemplation for the second time that evening. She began to walk away from him, and he felt a keen disappointment that apparently their moment was over. Imagine his surprise when she turned back to look at him, holding out one hand as she did so.

"Are you coming?" She asked, hesitation and perhaps even a little fear in her voice. Spike had to restrain himself from running to her and snogging the life from her in his happiness; she had asked him for friendship, nothing more. Walking to her side at a sedate pace, he slowly slid his hand into hers and basked in the warmth that pulsed just under her skin. Buffy seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the action.

"Where are we headed, pet?" He asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He nose scrunched up adorably as she thought about it.

"Well… It's been a pretty slow night, oogly boogly-wise. How d'you feel about ice cream?" She asked, for the moment seeming more like her younger teenage-self and less like the downtrodden adult she had become. Spike couldn't help but smile in response.

"I feel bloody fantastic about ice cream, provided you don't turn your pretty nose up when I add a bit to mine." He said with a grin. She pulled a disgusted face.

"Ugh. You're gonna add blood to it, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than an actual question. He decided to tease her a bit more.

"Looks just like that strawberry syrup when you squeeze it out on top." He observed, delighting in the way she looked ready to gag.

"I'll make you a deal…" She said, and he raised a brow in curiosity. "You get a vanilla milkshake with a non-see through cup, and I won't say anything about you mixing some blood into it." He barked out a laugh before he even thought about it, and her face turned soft.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Nothing…" She murmured. "Just been awhile since I really heard you laugh." Her face turned melancholy, and he found himself missing the teasing of just before.

"I'll agree to the opaque cup," He drawled, wanting to see her smile again. "but I'll have to forgo the vanilla ice cream. Chocolate always went better with blood." She wrinkled her nose in distaste once again, but a small giggle tickled its way from her throat.

_Tonight is a good night._


	7. Diverging Paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains references to self-harm.
> 
> See disclaimer on first chapter.

It was the next day when the peace that Spike had only just found seemed to disappear. The atmosphere was charged with electric energy; he could practically _smell_ the coming doom in the air. Judging by his senses, and how absolutely tense Arielle was, he would guess that they were only a day or two away from the final bloody showdown. _Always did perform my best on a tight schedule, yeah?_ Added to the tension of the coming battle was the utter hopelessness coming from the Scoobies in waves… It was as if they sincerely doubted their ability to pull through to save the world this time. He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of Arielle's boots on the trapdoor steps.

"Put on your party clothes, Da." She said with a cheeky grin. Spike raised a brow in question whilst he finished puffing out smoke. "We need to see a man about a tamed dog."

Needless to say, his curiosity was peaked. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy glanced at the clock on the wall in the Magic Box for what felt like the thousandth time that night, wondering just what the hell was taking Spike and Arielle so long to get there. Huffing out an annoyed breath, she reminded herself that she most likely _didn't_ want to know. She had felt marginally better after her talk with Spike the night before… Not that she thought she _deserved_ the quick acceptance of her apology that he'd given her, but she felt a bit better about the whole situation nonetheless. It _should_ have had her relaxing a little; but it didn't. The air around her felt like it was charged with some kind of power… She could sense that something big, something _holy shit_ -worthy, was gonna go down really soon. And it had her teeth on edge.

"Sorry for the tardiness, ladies." Arielle drawled out, not sounding sorry in the least. Xander and Giles both threw her annoyed glances over the 'ladies' comment. She breezed in the door, Spike close on her heels, but stopped with a slightly militant stance at the edge of the table instead of sitting down. Buffy tried not to notice that Spike hovered just behind her shoulder, his closeness cutting her heart into ribbons.

"What's the deal?" Buffy practically growled out, unable to control her voice. She vaguely sensed the surprise alighting on everyone's faces at her hostile tone, but ignored it. Arielle merely raised a brow in derision, something dark and combative sparking in her eyes. _I'm getting real sick of the attitude, honey._ Buffy thought. _Keep looking at me like that and I just might do something about it._ Before Arielle could answer, the ground began to shake and jostle them all about.

Papers started to slide from the table, books bounced themselves off of the shelves, and the majority of them gripped their chairs for dear life. Tara, who had been standing off to the side when the shaking began, found herself roughly being pitched to the floor from the tremors. She would have planted face-first if Spike hadn't used his vampy speed to zip to Tara's side and catch her arm to steady her. Once the tremors stopped, they all breathed a sigh of relief. _Gotta love living in California._ What happened next might not have seemed all that unusual to a normal passer-by… But it snagged Buffy's attention immediately.

"Um…" Tara began uncertainly, glancing down at where Spike's hand was still wrapped around her forearm to steady her. "Thanks, Spike." He looked a little nonplussed at the gratitude, but answered her anyways.

"No problem, Glinda." Tara kept looking down at her arm, however.

"D'you think you could… let me go? You're kind of… hurting." Spike immediately dropped her arm as if it had burned him, faint splotches of bruising already showing from his too-tight grip.

"So sorry!" He murmured, looking genuinely shocked. _Wait a minute… 'hurting'? The chip doesn't allow Spike to… Oh God._ Buffy whirled to Arielle, absolute fury in her face.

"What did you do?" She yelled, a demand for an answer rather than a question. Arielle merely gazed at her with hard eyes.

"Evened the playing field." Was her simple response. Buffy saw red… literally. Her blood pressure boosted so high that a pinkish haze seemed to cover her vision. She took two threatening steps toward the girl before Spike was there between them, his hands raised in pacification.

"Now, Buffy…" He began in a gentle tone, obviously trying to calm her down. Too bad for him that it only riled her anger more. _Trying to protect his annoying-ass new girlfriend from ME?_ She raged in her mind.

"…You don't have the chip anymore." Dawn observed in an awed voice, as the others caught on as well. Spike's eyes darted around the room, and he took a couple steps back in a defensive gesture. Xander's eyes went wide, and Buffy knew that he was about to blow.

"What?!" He screamed, predictably. Temporarily calming down, Buffy rolled her eyes and turned to Xander.

"Oh, _relax_ would you?" She bit out in exasperation. "Just because he doesn't have the chip anymore doesn't mean he's gonna start snacking on you! Don't be such a drama queen!" The look on Xander's face would have made her laugh if she wasn't so emotional at the moment herself; it was as if he couldn't decide between disbelief at her apparent lack of concern over a chipless Spike, and indignation that she dared to call him a 'drama queen'. For his part, Spike was looking at her in total awe, perhaps because she had just essentially come out of the 'I believe in Spike' closet in front of all her friends.

"If you're not concerned that he'll return to murdering the innocent," Arielle said, watching Buffy with those creepy eyes. "then why were you so upset?" The question pulled Buffy up short. Why _had_ she been upset? The answer was simple.

"How could you have been one hundred percent sure that whatever little stunt you pulled to remove it wouldn't have _dusted_ him?" She grit out, the anger returning to her voice.

"…You were worried I could have been hurt?" Spike murmured quietly, sounding almost disbelieving. _Okay, I probably deserve that._

"How… _interesting_." Arielle smirked, even as her nose wrinkled in distaste. _What the hell is this bitch's problem?_ "I don't see why you would care. Hasn't he always been a thorn in your side? A mere 'problem' that you have continually been forced to deal with? I mean, he's only of use to you for certain… _things_ … isn't he? So why should you care whether he lives or dies?" Buffy was so enraged that she shouted the absolute truth before she even thought to lie.

"Because I _love_ him!" Her voice seemed to almost echo in the resulting silence of the room; the old adage of hearing a pin drop would have perfectly summed it up.

"…What?" Spike's voice came out husky and cracked in his shock, a broken whisper if anything. It took almost all the courage Buffy had to raise her eyes to meet his own in that moment. She wasn't given time to analyze the look within those blue depths before Arielle's snort of derision had her whipping her head back around to glare at her.

"I don't believe you." Arielle bit out. Her eyes were swirling madly, but there was nothing beautiful about the movement this time. Instead, they reminded Buffy of a deadly hurricane, bent on absolute destruction.

"What the hell is your _problem_?" Buffy snapped. "Ever since you've first showed up you've had a hate-on for me, so what did I ever do? Either give me a damn reason, or get over your miserable fucking attitude!" Buffy could hear Dawn's quick intake of breath in shock that she had actually resorted to the F-bomb, but ignored it. Arielle seemed to move with unnatural speed, getting up in Buffy's personal space and glaring at her like she could cheerfully carve her to pieces.

"You _abandoned_ me!" The girl growled, and Buffy's mind blanked in confusion.

"Huh?" It wasn't an intelligent answer by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the only one she had to offer. Arielle spoke again quickly, too lost on an emotional roller-coaster to realize just what she was saying.

"You _left_ me! You didn't want me at all! You decided that your precious _friends_ and their opinions were more important to you than your own fucking child! That you couldn't stand the sight of such an unnatural _freak_ , a God damn _abomination_!" The raw emotion in Arielle's voice was burning her alive. She didn't miss the absolutely stricken look on Spike's face, but was too wrapped in her thoughts to really ponder over it.

"You're saying you're my… daughter?" Arielle's lips pressed tightly closed, and she merely glared at Buffy in answer. "No." Buffy's denial was quick, and a little desperate. "No… I wouldn't. I wouldn't abandon my own child. I… _couldn't_ have." Her eyes were pleading with the girl in front of her, begging for it not to be true. But the hatred that she saw in Arielle's gaze convinced her. "… _Why_?" She asked, her battered heart breaking all over again at the sight of the silent tears overflowing from Arielle's strange eyes. It made her feel sick.

"You couldn't stand what I was…" She said in a quiet and broken tone. "What my _father_ was." Spike loudly slumped to be sitting in one of the chairs, his head in his hands, the absolute _picture_ of dejection. Arielle took a few steps back, sitting herself tiredly on the arm of Spike's chair. Grasping one of his hands, she wove their fingers together and rested the bundle on her knee. The sight of the two of them holding hands seemed to regenerate a thought in Xander's mind.

"Wait…" He said, and Buffy just knew that it was gonna be something she'd want to hit him for. He turned a shocked gaze to Spike. "Does this mean that you've been sleeping with Buffy's _daughter_?" As asinine as the remark had been, it did bring up some very _this is not right_ wigginess in her mind. Spike growled low in his chest, leaning forward as if to get up and tear Xander apart, but before he could even move out of the chair Arielle had jumped to her feet. Flicking a wrist, she sent Xander thudding into one of the bookshelves without even touching him.

"How…" Giles began, but Arielle cut him off.

"I told you in the beginning, Watcher. I'm a whole new breed of animal." Giles looked her over consideringly.

"Half Slayer…" He mused. "But what's the other half?" She merely sent the group of them a dismissive glance, as Spike pushed himself out of the chair and stalked out of the shop, slamming the door almost right off its hinges in the process. She turned hard eyes to Willow.

"Witch. I will require all of those ingredients you've been gathering for me by tomorrow night." Willow blinked, but didn't seem to have the tongue to say anything. "One more to go, people." Arielle threw over her shoulder as she walked towards the door, sounding completely drained of energy.

"What do you mean?" Buffy called, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that suddenly this was her _daughter_ she was talking to. _Yeah… My daughter that hates my guts._

"Only one more human quality left. Your little Scoobies better get cracking." She replied, gripping the handle of the door.

"What was mine?" Buffy called, not sure where in the torrent of emotion of the night _her_ human quality had popped up.

"Love."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took a very long time for Arielle to find him, after that. Spike had wanted someplace calming, someplace that he could try to muddle through everything that was rioting around in his brain. He refused to be amused by the irony that he had picked an abandoned church as that place. Besides, if one considered his _human_ life, a church _wasn't_ really all that ironic. He was sitting in one of the pews, staring up at Jesus on the Cross while he tried to suss out his thoughts and feelings, and ignoring the irritating itch that the sight of the cross welled within his demon.

"I never really took as much comfort in these places as you did." Arielle remarked quietly, as if not to startle him. He wouldn't have been startled anyway… He could always sense when she was near.

"Did I take you to churches often?" He asked in light curiosity, though his thoughts were still miles away. She smiled as she sat beside him, but it had a distinctly sad tilt to it.

"No… Not often. You told me once that the sight of the cross only reminded you too much of _her_." Spike's gaze dropped to his clasped hands.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" He asked, the quietness of his voice not covering the tearing emotion behind the question one iota. She seemed to contemplate the question with seriousness before she answered.

"I couldn't bear the thought of you knowing what it was like. I wanted you to be happy this time." His gaze was bleak as he turned his head to regard her.

"Does this mean we're doomed? That no matter what, we'll end up so… broken?" He whispered. She turned her eyes away, staring up at the cross as he had just moments before.

"No." As quiet as her husky voice was, it was firm. "In my reality, we ended so divided because of her inability to accept you, to accept me. To accept her own feelings. Here and now, she's _already_ accepted them. She openly proclaimed in front of everyone that she loves you… She would have _never_ done such a thing in my time. She's already changed things." Spike studied her profile as he contemplated her words.

"You really bloody hate her, don' you?" He asked, though it was really a statement on its own. Arielle's eyes closed momentarily, but when she opened them and turned to him her gaze was firm.

"You can change this… You can make it so that I never grow up to be the twisted shell that I've become. As much fun as I've had being around you again… I don't want to be this way. I _hate_ who I am." Spike's eyes dropped to regard her exposed forearms, where he could faintly see numerous circular scars dotting the pale skin. A memory of when she first came flickered into his thoughts, of Arielle extinguishing her fag on her skin and Dawn's innocent question of _doesn't that hurt?_ Just then, it occurred to him that Arielle had never properly answered… She'd merely told Dawn not to try it herself.

"Tell me." He said to her, wanting to understand. "Why d'you do this to yourself, poppet?" She remained looking away from him, but spoke lowly.

"Because it hurts." His brow wrinkled in confusion. "Because in my life, everything's been hard. Every little glimmer of happiness has been overshadowed by one sodding disaster after another. I had a mother who didn't want me and basically equated me with the God damn antichrist… I spent my youngest years on the run from the Watcher's Council, because Rupert felt that I would grow up to be some new kind of demon, a thing of evil. And then, when I was seventeen, I lost you. Emotional pain I don't know how to deal with… Physical pain seems so much simpler." She finally turned her head to look at him again, abject misery swirling in her eyes.

"What happened?" Spike was hesitant, not sure that he _really_ wanted the particulars of his own dusting. She shook her head, but continued with the tale.

"It was a week after my seventeenth birthday… We were holed up in this crummy little apartment in Salem, at that point. I'd been begging you to let me get a dog, because I was lonely, but you kept telling me that it wasn't practical since we were always on the move. All of a sudden, you seemed to… freeze up. You'd heard them coming. You shoved me into a space you'd made under the floor boards, and told me to be quiet. I wanted to come out, to help you fight like you'd taught me, but you wouldn't listen." Arielle's hands began to shake, and she gripped them tightly together in front of her.

"They burst in the door, dressed to the bloody tits with crosses and fucking Holy Water… You still had the chip, so you wouldn't have been able to fight back much either way. It was the Council… They were looking for me, and knew I'd most likely still be with my father. They'd wanted to just kill me off when I was born, but you stole me away to protect me. You were _always_ trying to protect me…" Her voice quavered, but she cleared her throat to try and stay strong. "I laid under those floor boards and listened to you scream in pain while they 'interrogated' you as to where I was. You never told them… After they left and I came out of hiding, all that was left of you was a pile of dust and your silver lighter where you'd left it on the counter."

They were both crying as she finished her tale. Spike couldn't even imagine what her life had been like, and a resolution welled up in him that it would _never_ come to pass. He would do anything, _give_ anything, to prevent her from living such misery again. At a loss for words, he wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders and held his poor child while she cried.

"Arielle…" He broke the silence what felt like a long time later. She looked up at him, rubbing the remnants of tears from slightly swollen eyes. "The sacrifice that's required for the weapon we need… I'll do it."

He would do _anything_. Give _anything_. For her… All for _her_.


	8. Saying Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

"Any idea what all this stuff is for?" Buffy asked Willow and Tara as they packed the various herbs, stones, and candles that Arielle had requested into a box. Tara shook her head, her eyes sad when she looked at her.

"No…" She said, sighing faintly. "She just said that she needed them." Willow was actually looking excited at the prospect of some major witchy action, and it gave Buffy a bad feeling. As Willow marched the box out to her car, Tara snagged Buffy by the elbow. "Can I ask you something?" Her voice was hesitant.

"Sure." Buffy said, wondering where this was going, but already having a pretty good idea. She was right.

"Did you mean what you said last night… Do you really love him?" Tara's voice was kind, and Buffy knew that she was probably one of the few that wasn't epically pissed or disappointed in her for falling for _another_ vampire. 

"Yeah…" Her voice was a bit hoarse. "I meant it." Tara's gaze seemed to search her own for a moment, before she wrapped Buffy in a gentle hug. A little shocked at the open display of affection from the shy witch, it took her a moment to return the hug. Eventually letting her go, Tara smiled sadly.

"As many ups and downs as love can have…" She began, a far-away look in her eyes. Buffy figured she was probably thinking of her and Willow's recent fights about magic. "It's worth all of the struggle. I just… wanted you to know that." She nodded to show she understood, and kept herself from pointing out the fact that she didn't exactly _have_ Spike's love anymore. She didn't deserve it. Tara gave her one last shy smile, before heading outside to join Willow.

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table, contemplating the most recent drama in her life. Apparently dying twice and getting yanked out of Heaven wasn't enough for the Powers, they just had to plunk down a daughter from the future that absolutely hated her guts to round it all off. Sighing to herself, she let her head thunk to the tabletop. She was still trying to wrap her head around it all; now that the relation had been thrown in her face, she couldn't help but notice the little things. Like how Arielle's nose was almost a replica of her own… Or how they shared the same general body shape, if not the height. Even, to a certain degree, the way they fought.

But all of these things that she could suddenly see they had in common had her wondering about the rest. What had Arielle picked up from the mystery man that was her father? Was it her sarcastic attitude? Those strange eyes of hers? How about the almost animal-like way that she could sense things around her? Buffy found that her curiosity was driving her insane with questions about just _who_ she was going to have a kid with at some undetermined time in the future.

She was also curious about the way Arielle grew up. The fighting, the snarkiness, the constantly being on the defense… all of it pointed to a life of hell. Of being on the run. She hadn't missed all of the cigarette burns on her forearms, either. It was easy to see that Arielle probably had some _major_ issues, psychologically. Hell, Buffy herself probably did as well. Some mental wackiness over certain things tended to come with the territory of the weird life they all led. Yep, everything about the way the girl behaved just screamed that she had a hard life growing up… And that was _exactly_ what bothered Buffy the most.

Arielle had told her that she'd abandoned her… her own child. She still didn't want to believe it. Family meant _everything_ to her… She would give her life – hell, already _had_ given her life – for Dawn, and the loss of their mother had devastated her. Buffy could remember that first night when her mother had died; how Spike had shown up on her back porch and sat beside her, awkwardly patting her back and trying to comfort her through her tears. A rueful smile twitched onto her lips. Joyce had always liked Spike; much more than she'd ever liked Angel. There had been many nights when she'd come home from patrol to find Spike and her mom sitting at the kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate with those ridiculous mini-marshmallows while discussing some topic or another. The first few times, it had given her the major wiggins. But eventually she'd just continued on up to her room silently, letting them have their moment. Instinctively, she'd known that Spike would never _actually_ hurt her mother, no matter what he had said to the opposite.

Thinking about how it had felt to lose her mother turned Buffy back to wondering how Arielle would have felt growing up without one at all. She couldn't imagine it… She couldn't even fathom what it would be like to have no mom to run home to when life got you down, no comforting arms to wrap you in a hug and make it all go away. Arielle had said before that her father had raised her; Buffy wondered if he had been able to fulfill that motherly kind of role, or if living with him had been hard on her. _I bet Spike would be a great dad… If a little unorthodox._ As fast as the thought came, she dismissed it for the whimsy it was. _Not like vampires can have children._

Nope, Buffy still couldn't picture herself willingly giving up her child. She didn't care what anyone else thought. _But it wasn't that long ago that you DID care._ She had to concede that her subconscious had a point. Buffy had lived for months now under the proverbial thumb of her friends' – well, to be fair, mostly just Xander and Giles' – expectations when it came to what she did and who she hung around with. If she hadn't had her recent moment of 'I am Buffy, hear me roar', she very well could have ended up continuing to live her life based on what _they_ wanted from her. And really, she had Arielle to thank for breaking her from that. If she hadn't been so jealous of the closeness between Arielle and Spike, she probably wouldn't have ever admitted it to even _herself_ that she loved him; that she _cared_.

Dragging herself from her thoughts, she glanced at the clock and swore. She had ten minutes to get over to the old churchyard that Arielle had told them all to gather at.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're _sure_ you want to go through with this?" Arielle asked him, a strange look in her eyes. Spike nodded emphatically as he placed his duster over a nearby bench in the churchyard. She turned without answering as Red's car pulled up just beyond the gate. The witches hefted a box that was obviously full of the items Arielle had requested and entered the yard, only to be closely followed by Buffy.

Spike felt a pang in his heart that was equal parts pain and elation. To know that Buffy was Arielle's mother felt absolutely surreal… When human, he'd been a tender-hearted romantic that only dreamed of being loved and having a family. Now, despite his rather horrible unlife, he'd been given the chance at William's long-ago dream; Buffy had said the night before that she loved him, and here was his child standing before him. Now it was up to him to make sure that, this time around, it really would produce in that typical _happily ever after_. Or, at least, as 'typical' as a family made up of a Vampire, Vampire Slayer, and strange Half-breed could get.

"So what exactly are we doing here?" Buffy asked, her voice commanding but her eyes only hesitantly raising to meet Arielle's. Spike couldn't imagine what Buffy had gone through emotionally after the revelations of the night before. Arielle stared at her a moment in silence, before glancing away and answering the question. _Always focused on your duty… aren't you, poppet._

"We're getting that weapon that I've been promising you." She said simply. Buffy's face scrunched up a little in confusion.

"I thought you said that we had to give you all three human qualities before we could have it." Arielle turned her back to them, beginning to pull items out of the box that the witches had set down.

"I can't wait for those two dumbass men to make up their minds. We're running out of time." She responded. Spike couldn't help the smirk at Giles and Xander being referred to as 'those two dumbass men'. Buffy took a step closer to Arielle, still frowning.

"But if they weren't absolutely essential to this… whatever it is… then why make us do it in the first place?" Arielle's hands stilled, but she didn't turn around.

"Because I wanted to try and change things. To make them better this time." Was her only reply. Spike half-expected Buffy to blow her top over that one, but was surprised when she didn't. Instead, she gazed at Arielle's tense back for a moment before speaking again.

"I think you already have." She said. The conversation was interrupted when Giles, the Whelp, and the odd bird all arrived. Anya fluttered out of the car as if it was a Sunday picnic, while the other two looked much more grim. Spike could see Buffy tense as they approached, obviously expecting some kind of lecture about her declaration of love the night before. Things had ended so hectically, that he knew no-one had probably had the chance to suss everything out yet. Buffy turned to face them, her expression hard and unyielding, as if daring them to comment on her feelings. He was proud of her for it. Giles and Xander both stopped a few steps away from her, before the Whelp spoke up.

"What d'you need us to do?" He asked. Buffy looked momentarily thrown by the lack of judgmental accusations coming out of the two of them.

"Well, well, well…" Arielle interjected. "We might have our three, after all." Everyone turned to look at her, but she kept her gaze trained on the men. "Got something to say, you two?" She challenged.

"Buffy…" Giles began, and kind but reserved edge to his voice that made Spike raise a brow. "I had no idea… what you were going through. I'm sorry that I've been so focused on antiquated ideas of what _is_ or _isn't_ proper behaviour for a Slayer… One would think that I would have learned years ago that you refuse to fit predetermined moulds." Buffy raised a brow at him.

"I'm gonna assume you meant that as a good thing." She said dryly. Giles chuckled a little, and took a step closer to her.

"Absolutely." He said with a small smile. _Well colour me shocked_ , Spike thought. Everyone in the group, aside from Arielle who had gone back to setting up the things required for the sacrifice, turned their eyes to Xander. He cleared his throat nervously, but instead of speaking to Buffy turned and spoke directly to Spike.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I suddenly like you." He said. Spike smirked at him.

"Good, because I won't either." He replied. Xander rolled his eyes.

"Just shut up and let me finish. I still pretty much hate your guts, even if you _can_ be kind of funny sometimes, and the whole vampire thing still massively wigs me out. But I love Buffy, and after everything we did to her I think she deserves to be happy… Even if what makes her happy is totally deranged. And I'm pretty sure she can kick my ass six ways from Sunday if I keep saying things about you to piss her off. So all I'm gonna say is… You know… Don't hurt her. Or I'll get creative with cans of gasoline." He wrapped up his little speech with the most awkward look possible on his face, but Spike held in the laughter and merely nodded to him. _At least the Whelp's making some kind of effort._ Buffy ran to Giles and Xander, wrapping an arm around each of their necks and hugging them tightly.

"Let me guess," He said dryly to Arielle where she was finishing her preparations. "that there was probably your last human quality, yeah?" She smirked back at him.

"…'Course." She said.

"An' just what, exactly, was that one?" He asked as he meandered his way over to her.

"Acceptance."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy stared as Spike and Arielle spoke softly to each other. She felt a chill in the air, and goosebumps skittered their way over her arms. Something big was about to happen. Something life-altering.

"So… Are we doing some kind of spell to retrieve the weapon?" Willow asked, eagerness in her voice. Arielle twitched a look over to her, her eyes swirling with some emotion that she couldn't decode.

"Something like that." Her voice was reserved, and Buffy knew that she was holding something back.

"What?" She asked, though it was more like _tell me NOW._ Arielle contemplated her for a minute again, before answering.

"We have to make a sacrifice to the Powers in order to retrieve the weapon that will win this apocalypse." She explained. Buffy frowned, that bad feeling in her gut increasing.

"…What kind of sacrifice." She demanded. Arielle opened her mouth to answer, but stopped when Spike rested a hand on her shoulder. Instead, she turned her blue eyes up to his own. They seemed to share a conversation in that look, no words required, and it was then when it hit Buffy what was about to happen. She shook her head, panic beginning to pull at her. "No." She said.

"Buffy…" Spike began, stepping toward her, but she backed up a step out of reflex and he stopped. She turned to look back at Arielle.

"Take me instead." She said, but the girl's expression betrayed nothing.

"No." She answered in a calm voice. "It needs to be _his_ sacrifice. The Powers demand his very existence in return for the weapon." Spike seemed to twitch at that. Buffy could feel her eyes welling with tears.

"No!" She yelled at Arielle, uncaring about how unhinged she probably looked at the moment. "No! I can't… I can't…" Her breaths were gasping out of her, the panic slicing through her at an alarming rate. "I need him!" She covered her face with her hands, letting the tears flow. Her body startled as she felt cold arms encircle her, but immediately calmed when she recognized who it was.

"It's gonna be okay, pet…" He whispered into her hair, threading the fingers of one hand through the locks while the other gripped her tightly to him. "I have to do this. I have to protect her… She's mine too, you know." Buffy jerked her head up to stare at him in astonishment.

"…What?" Was the only answer she could even manage.

"She's ours, you see?" He whispered to her. "So I have to do what I can… I can't let her grow up the way she did. Not again. It'll all come out alright, love." He looked into her eyes, his grip in her hair forcing her not to avoid him. "You need to trust me. Do you trust me, Slayer?" She could remember the last time he'd asked her that… And they way she'd cruelly answered him.

"…Yes." She said this time. "I trust you." His beautiful eyes almost seemed to glow with his pleasure at her answer, and suddenly Buffy knew _exactly_ where Arielle's blue eyes came from. Maybe not the crazy-swirlyness, but definitely the colour. He grinned down at her.

"Alright, love. Time to go to work, then." He said cheekily, though it did nothing to lesson her fear. "Give us a kiss." She could read the trepidation in his eyes. Even though she'd openly said that she loved him, even though he knew that in some other reality they had a child together, he was still unsure about this. It made her heart melt, damn it. Smiling shakily up at him, she rose to her toes and pressed her lips to his in the most gentle kiss they had ever shared. It had never been about romance between them before, not for lack of trying on his part. She'd never wanted it… But now she did. She wanted it all.

It took every ounce of trust and faith that she had in her to let him go and watch him walk away from her.


	9. An Unnatural Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

When Spike joined Arielle in the little clearing of the churchyard, Buffy had to swallow down the nerves threatening to choke her.

"So… What kind of spell is it?" Willow bust in eagerly, capturing everyone's attention. "What do you need me to do?" Buffy frowned a bit at Willow's assumption that any and all spellcasting would be done by her, but at the same time couldn't deny that they _were_ usually prone to hand it off to the redheaded witch. Arielle frowned, turning to Willow with a combative stance that confused Buffy. 

"I don't need you to do anything." She said, a reserved tone to her voice. Willow pouted a bit in confusion at that.

"But… It's a spell, right? I always do the spells." She argued back.

"Yes, I'm aware. A bit too much, I'm afraid." Arielle answered coolly. Willow's face became thunderous in indignation, and Buffy could have sworn she saw threads of black weaving their way through her usually bright hair.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Willow barked, the sharp tone unusual coming from her. Buffy immediately went on edge.

"What it means, princess…" Arielle gritted out, her stance becoming defensive as if expecting an attack from Willow. _Which is just silly, right? I mean… Willow wouldn't hurt a fly… right?_ "Is that your magical usage is getting out of control." Willow laughed a bit harshly, an unbelieving sound.

"I'm _completely_ in control." She argued, looking around at the gang as if to have them back her up. Her face fell when all she encountered were guilty looks of disagreement. "…Guys? You know I can handle it… right?" Her confidence in the statement seemed to wane, and her hair returned to its usual copper tones. Arielle shook her head and sighed.

"I'm gonna do you a favour, Witch. So listen well to what I have to say." Arielle's defensive stance eased, but she was no less on her guard. "If you continue down this path of denial, if you refuse to see your own weakness and thereby try to fix it, it will only end in tragedy for you." Willow looked ready to argue, but Arielle's next words cut her off. "In my time, what your future will be if you don't try to change things now… Your weakness forces your lover to leave you." Willow turned shocked eyes to Tara.

"You… you wouldn't leave me, would you?" She said breathlessly. Arielle cut in before Tara could answer.

"I wasn't finished. She leaves you, and it only angers you further. Despite her actions, you continue to blind yourself to the way you change. It's like a chain reaction… Because of unfolding events, she ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she dies painfully in your arms. In a fit of magically reinforced rage, you skin her murderer alive and attempt to end the world that is now lacking her." By this point, they are all gazing at Arielle in shock, while tears course silently down Willow's face.

"So… You're saying that in a domino-y kind of way… if I don't stop using so much magic, Tara will die and I'll turn evil?" Willow _sounded_ disbelieving, but Buffy could see in her eyes that she really believed every word. Arielle simply nodded in answer. "…I need help." Willow's voice was cracked, a broken whisper. Arielle raised a hand, indicating the Scoobies gathered in the churchyard.

"You have help all around you." She said. "All you have to do is be willing to take it." Willow nodded her head, making an effort to choke back her tears.

"I will." She whispered, cuddling into Tara's side and seemingly clinging for dear life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike heard the rustle in the bushes at about the same moment that Arielle did. Obviously, no one else had been able to pick up on the subtle sound. Arielle sighed, but did not turn toward the noise when she called out.

"Dawn." She said in a firm voice. "I told you to stay home. This is too dangerous." Spike raised a brow as Dawn sidled out of the bushes, coming into the open clearing. She pulled a petulant face as she went to stand with the Scoobies, crossing her arms and frowning at Arielle.

"I'm not a child!" She insisted, in the way that children always do. It made a reluctant smile pull subtly at the corner of his lips. "And… and, you're technically my _niece_ , so you can't boss me around!" She finished with a flair. Spike found himself having to cover his laughter with a sharp coughing noise, making Arielle raise a brow.

"You may be my aunt, pet… But at this point in time, I'm years older than you." Arielle returned with finality.

"I'll be fine!" Dawn still insisted. "I'll be safe with Buffy. I'm _always_ safe with Buffy." Spike didn't miss the way that Buffy's face softened, nor the swirl of incomprehension in Arielle's eyes. He gripped the back of Arielle's neck comfortingly in his hand, drawing her attention.

"She's just as safe here, with _her_ , as you always were with me." He said quietly, though he knew that everyone could hear him still. Arielle seemed to struggle with it momentarily before relenting.

"Fine." She said reluctantly, and Spike noted the look of triumph on Dawn's face. "But this'll be anything _but_ a walk in the bloody park. The moment we begin the ritual, Ahnshyr'k will be able to sense we are retrieving the weapon and will try to stop us. I will perform the sacrifice, but I need the lot of you to watch my back." Everyone's mood instantly sobered, and Spike's trepidation sat like lead in his gut. Buffy handed out weapons that had been stashed in the trunk of Giles' car, hesitating only momentarily before handing a dagger to Dawn as well. Spike turned to Arielle, sorrow etched in his face.

"What do you need me to do?" He rasped. Her response was equally quiet.

"Shoes and shirt off." She said. Doing as he was told, he threw one last glance to Buffy. She looked absolutely petrified, and broke his unbeating heart into pieces.

"I love you." She said brokenly, and he had to swallow down his emotion.

"I know." He replied with a wavering smile. He stood where Arielle placed him, still determined to do this thing and save his child from a life of suffering.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arielle began a strange chanting, in a language that Buffy hadn't heard yet, and subtle tremors started to form beneath their feet. She couldn't help the violent twitch that her body gave in shock when what looked like razor-wire sprung out of the earth on either side of Spike's body and wrapped itself around each of his arms. The ends of the wire seemed to embed themselves right into his skin, and he was clenching his teeth against the pain. Absolute agony was on his face, but Buffy knew that he'd contain his screams until he literally wasn't able to anymore. _So strong…_

Blood leaked steadily out of where the wire spiralled up his arms, the sight of it tearing at something within her. Blood and Spike together wasn't such a _new_ thing; because, really, _vampire_. But blood draining out of Spike, forming a dark puddle on the earth and grass under his bare feet, was a horrible sight to behold. Every instinct in Buffy screamed for her to go to him, to put a stop to this, but this was what he'd wanted. _Trust me_ , he'd said. So for the first time in her life, Buffy was going to do just that.

The rumbling under their feet grew to a small earthquake-worthy shaking; Buffy knew that she should probably be on her guard, on the lookout for a demony sneak-attack, but she just couldn't tear her eyes away from what was going on in front of her. There was a sound like a whip-crack, and Spike's back arched painfully, the tendons on his neck straining with the effort not to cry out. Buffy could see trails of blood running down his sides from his back, and his eyes were steadily losing that beautiful blue colour. The gold of his demon was beginning to take over, though his face retained its human mask.

The last that Buffy saw of Spike before her attention was drawn away by the appearance of minions belonging to Ahnshyr'k was an unnatural glow that had risen in his eyes… Like sunshine bursting through. Something looking like a gigantic viper on crack took her attention as it attacked, and one thought repeated in her mind like a mantra as she fought: _Protect Spike._ Being lashed to the ground as he was by the razor-wire, there was no way he'd be able to stop anything from killing him. She battled the hardest she ever had in her life, occasionally catching glimpses of her friends and her sister fighting against other hell-spawn around her.

Sending a vicious kick to the viper's head – followed by a sword thrust through the side of its skull – it took Buffy a moment to register the fact that the sounds of Arielle's chanting had died away. Turning around in fear, she saw that the girl had momentarily paused in her recitation to take care of a demon that had gotten too close. Just as she was dispatching that demon, Buffy spotted another that was almost to Spike.

"Arielle!" She screamed, gaining the girl's attention as Buffy herself began to run. The demon pulled back an arm that was holding a wicked-looking short sword, intent on thrusting it through Spike's exposed chest. Just as he brought it forward on a deadly swing, Arielle was there.

It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, like in those bad movies that Xander was so fond of… Arielle jumped in front of the demon, thrusting her dagger through the side of its neck with fatal accuracy. Its lifeless body seemed to slowly sink to the ground as Arielle ripped her dagger back out, letting go of her firm grip on its shoulder. Her blue gaze, swirling madly with the heat of battle, turned downward. Buffy followed the motion with her own eyes, and stilled.

There, lodged in Arielle's abdomen, was the demon's sword. A stain began to wet the fabric of her black shirt, darkening it sickeningly. Arielle coughed, and a spatter of blood followed to trail down her chin. As if someone had suddenly hit 'play', everything seemed to speed up again for Buffy. She ran towards Arielle, hacking down any demon that got in her way, and didn't even realize that she was screaming as she did it.

Just as Buffy reached her, Arielle began to sink slowly to the ground. Buffy supported her, kneeling there with her daughter resting heavily against her legs and chest. Arielle raised a hand to the short sword, tugging ineffectually at it. Knowing what she wanted, Buffy clamped down on her emotions temporarily and pulled it out. The rush of blood that followed would be a sight that never left her mind's eye again. Arielle raised a hand to touch Buffy's face, smearing her blood across her cheek.

"I have to finish…" She gasped in her husky voice, determination and pain mixing in her eyes. Buffy nodded to her silently, tears beginning to course down her face. Tugging on Arielle's weak form, she turned her so that she was resting back against Buffy and once more facing Spike. Glancing up at him, Buffy soon realized that he was too caught within his own hell to even know what was going on around him. As Arielle began chanting once more, the light that had shined in Spike's eyes seemed to _explode_ , beams of light coursing out of his eyes and his open, screaming, mouth.

She stared raptly as his entire body was engulfed in the light, his screams echoing in her mind and torturing her. Soon, Arielle finished her chanting in a weak and breathy voice, her body growing steadily heavier in Buffy's arms. The light disappeared and Spike stopped screaming; the razor-wire recoiling upon itself and disappearing back into the earth. The demons that the Scoobies had been battling disappeared, as though they knew that they had failed to stop them from making the sacrifice. Spike's body continued to stand, still as a statue and his head bent down with eyes closed. The Scoobies gathered closer in the resulting silence, but not too close… they seemed to realize that Buffy needed some space with Arielle huddled on her lap.

"I don't understand…" Buffy said in quiet confusion, trying to wrap her head around everything that had just gone on while she softly threaded her fingers through Arielle's chestnut hair. "Why isn't he dust?" Spike's body had continued its statue-like stance; neither falling to the ground, nor exploding into a pile of ash. It was just… _there._

"I said…" Arielle's voice had grown weaker, a mere breathy gasp. "I said that he would have to sacrifice his _existence_ … I never said his _life_." Buffy continued to stare at Spike's unmoving form, unable to comprehend what that even _meant_.

"What about the weapon?" Dawn asked quietly, obviously hesitant to break into the moment. Arielle let out a weak chuckle that immediately resulted in her coughing up more blood. Buffy made soothing noises, instinctively trying to calm the girl.

"He _is_ the weapon." Arielle answered.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Spike needed to wake up. He could sense that there was something big, something extremely important that he needed to do. But in order to do it, he needed to wake up. He felt strange. All around him was dark, the inky blackness all at once comforting and striking him as odd. He could hear whispers, and was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. The closer he got to the whispers, the more he could sense that this was where he was meant to be going. He needed to wake up._

With a gasp, Spike came into his body and his eyes flashed open. He felt… _strange_ in his skin. Like it didn't fit the way that he'd grown accustomed to. Blinking rapidly, he tried to take in his surroundings and make sense of them. They were in a churchyard. The Scoobies were gathered around, staring at him in varying shades of shock and awe, for some bloody reason. They all showed the telltale signs of a battle hard-fought; covered in blood, scratches, and the beginnings of bruises. He could smell their fear, nervousness, and relief that the fight was over on the air.

He turned his eyes downward, and felt himself still. Arielle was laid across Buffy's lap, clasped close to Buffy's chest and bleeding profusely from a wound in her abdomen. Blood trailed down her chin, obviously having been coughed up by the girl, and her breaths were thin and thready. She was obviously struggling for every precious bit of oxygen that she gained. He fell to his knees heavily, scrabbling on hands and knees until he was beside the two most precious women in his life. Raising a shaking hand, he tenderly wiped the blood away from her face as best he could.

"What…" He cleared his cracking voice, and tried again. "How?" Arielle smiled shakily up at him, her eyes dimming even as she spoke.

"I couldn't let them take you." Was her only explanation. He shook his head as slow tears burned trails down his face.

"No… Not for me." He said firmly, not wanting to believe it. She weakly raised a hand, reaching for him but falling short. He gripped her hand in his own, bringing it to his cheek and willing her to hold on.

"You have to be the one to win this war…" She whispered, her eyes beginning to droop drowsily and renewing the panic within him. "When the time comes, you'll know what to do." He shook his head again, not wanting to let her go.

"Arielle…" He said softly, not quite knowing what to say. That was when Buffy spoke.

"Who named you?" She asked, the question seeming out of place.

"Da did." Was the simple answer.

"What does it mean?" Buffy asked again, a strange urgency to her voice. Arielle smiled softly, turning her eyes to his own.

"Lion of God." She whispered. Spike broke under the tears, refusing to shut his eyes and let her out of his sight.

"No… Don't go." His voice was broken. She only smiled, and slowly wrapped the fingers of her other hand in the ends of Buffy's hair, as if needing an anchor.

"Don't worry…" She gasped, and he leaned closer to the two of them to hear her. "I'll see you in about seven months." Spike looked up at Buffy, startled. She looked just as shocked as him. Turning their attention back down to the girl dying in their arms, he knew the promise that he had to make.

"We'll do right, this time. You'll see, poppet… We won' let you suffer this time." He vowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Buffy nodding her head in agreement.

"We will." She said huskily.

But Arielle hadn't heard her. Her wondrous eyes had stopped their dance, and instead gazed blankly at the sky above them. Her body had gone slack, and he could smell death coating her pale form like a disease.

Just as he reached to close her eyes, a soft wind picked up around the lot of them. As the wind passed over Arielle's feet, they seemed to… _dissolve_. Into cherry blossom petals, he quickly saw as the wind continued up her body, taking her form away and leaving only flower petals floating in the breeze. The last thing he saw of her before she was completely transformed was her sightless eyes. The petals drifted away on the wind, leaving the momentary sweetness of their scent before it too disappeared. Buffy and Spike kneeled together on the ground, laps suddenly achingly empty.

"What…?" He tried to begin around the catching in his throat. Anya, for once with only reverent seriousness in her voice, was the one to answer his unfinished question.

"She wasn't of this time." She explained quietly. "The Powers will have taken her to where she belongs." Buffy collapsed into Spike's arms, and they clung to each other strongly.

It was an indescribable feeling, mourning your child that had yet to be born. Indescribable… but agonizing nonetheless.


	10. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

Buffy walked back into her home in a bit of a daze. It wasn't that she hadn't believed Arielle's words or anything… But that was just the kind of thing that you needed to check out for yourself.

Dropping her denim jacket over the stairway railing, she turned toward the living room where the Scoobies were in various stages of relaxation and research. Spike, however, was sitting on the floor in one corner, leaning his torn-up back carefully away from any contact with the walls. They all glanced up at her in question when she came into the room.

"Well?" Dawn asked excitedly, but Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away from Spike's own nervous ones. Placing a hand to her head as if to calm her spinning thoughts, Buffy's answer was less than eloquent.

"Yep." She said simply, watching as a look of awe took over Spike's features. He stumbled to his feet with difficulty, as his injuries from the 'sacrifice' were obviously still agonizing. Xander just looked confused.

"How can you be almost two months pregnant and nobody knew anything about it, including _you_?" He asked. "Shouldn't there have been… You know… _symptoms_ , or whatever?" 

"Morning sickness, at least." Anya said in agreement. Buffy sent a bewildered glance to Giles.

"Slayer's constitution?" She guessed. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

"It could be likely…" The Watcher mused. "I've never exactly _known_ a Slayer with children, so I honestly have no idea."

"I have." Spike interjected off-handedly, wincing in pain when he rolled a shoulder and it pulled on his torn flesh. "Wasn' exactly takin' the time to ask her the particulars of pregnancy, though." Buffy decided she'd just let that comment pass without looking at it too hard. She'd already acknowledged to herself that she loved the stupid creature _despite_ his very evil past.

"So, if you're almost two months along…" Willow said uncertainly, as if she was already regretting the question she was about to ask. "I guess that means the warm and fuzzies for Spike aren't exactly a _new_ thing?" Xander pulled a face over the comment, but thankfully kept his mouth _shut_. Buffy could feel heat crowding onto her cheeks.

"…And top of the list of things I _don't_ want to discuss with my family. Ever." She quipped, and glanced over at Spike where a small smirk was barely visible on his lips. "Come on," She said to him. "let's get you cleaned up in the kitchen."

Spike sat himself so that he was straddling a backwards kitchen chair, leaving his bloody back open to her. Buffy winced in sympathy at the deep cuts that covered him; there were long, spiral-like gashes running up both of his arms from where the razor-wire had held him, and his poor back was just a mess of blood and cuts. Buffy figured she'd start on his arms with wiping the blood away, as she filled a large bowl with lukewarm water and grabbed a cloth.

"Should we be finding you, like, a gallon of pig's blood to replace what you lost in the churchyard?" She asked, as the thought had suddenly occurred to her. From where she stood wiping down his left arm, she could see the frown that momentarily twitched onto his face.

"No…" He said, his voice somewhat unsure. "Don' really feel like I need it, yeah?" Buffy frowned as well, knowing that was strange.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike fell into silence as Buffy ran the wet cloth down his arms to remove the dried blood. He could tell she was trying to be gentle – which in itself was a bit of a novelty; the Slayer was hardly ever gentle towards _him_ – but the slight pressure still stung like a _bitch_ regardless. Glancing down at the gashes in his flesh, which were much more visible now that the sticky redness was almost gone, he noticed that the wounds were almost healed. The sight caused him to frown once again.

"That seem right to you?" He asked her curiously. Buffy's hands stopped their motions, and she leaned down to get a closer look. Her emerald eyes flashed back to his, easily communicating her confusion and trepidation.

"…Vampires don't usually heal this fast." She said slowly, careful consideration behind the words. "I mean… fast, yeah. But not _this_ fast." He nodded his agreement, and they both returned to uneasy silence.

Spike wasn't sure just _what_ in the bloody hell had happened in that churchyard. When Arielle had told him that he would have to sacrifice 'his very existence', he had naturally assumed that she had meant his unlife. Having thereby expected a second brush with Death, he was confused as to why he was still walking and talking upon the earth. And then there was the fact that he felt… different. He couldn't pinpoint exactly _how_ , aside from a lack of craving blood, but just different in some way. Now he was wishing the girl had given him just a bit more information, but leave it to his daughter to be just as melodramatic as Spike himself had a tendency to be.

The thought of Arielle caused a pang of pain to run through him. He knew that he hadn't _truly_ lost her; as far as the universe's timeline went she had yet to be born. But he mourned her all the same. As Buffy momentarily moved in front of him to where she'd left the bowl of water on the table, something suddenly occurred to him. Snagging her slim wrist before she got too far, he kept his eyes trained on the ground when he felt her still.

"What's up?" She asked, but he didn't answer. Instead he tentatively reached out his free hand, fingertips halting just inches from her stomach. He raised his eyes to lock with her own, asking for permission in just a glance. Buffy's eyes melted into softness, and she swallowed heavily before nodding her head jerkily. Closing the distance, Spike placed his palm flat against Buffy's still-small belly, and tugged her body closer to his own by the hold on her wrist. He shifted his hands to loosely clasp her hips, and rested his forehead against her.

"Hello, poppet…" He whispered into her stomach, though Buffy heard him anyways, judging by the ragged breath she took. Tears pricked at his closed eyes, but he refused to give into them. "I'm sorry…" He said, just as quietly, to his unborn daughter that was resting somewhere in there. He could feel one of Buffy's hands come to the back of his head, fingers threading lightly through the bleached hair.

"It's not your fault." She insisted, but he remained silent. A small shuffling noise from the entrance to the kitchen caught both their attentions, and Spike turned his head to look without releasing his hold on the Slayer. The Good Witch stood there, cheeks covered in a blush and fingers buried in her skirts in nervousness.

"I-I'm sorry, if I'm interrupting…" She stammered, and had Spike been in a better mood it would have made him smile. Tara took another shuffling step into the kitchen, looking both nervous and yet determined. "Could I… Could I say something?" Spike saw Buffy raise a brow in surprise, but he answered her before the Slayer could.

"… 'Course, love. What's caught your mind?" He asked quietly. Tara took yet another halting step closer, shifting a quick glance down to Buffy's stomach and back again.

"Um… I just wanted to say that… I know how close you were with her, while she was here." She said quickly, and Spike felt the sorrow nearly consume him all over again. "B-but I just wanted to say that at least this time you can make sure that she grows up happy. You know, with the _both_ of you. And that… I know how strong you both are, so I know that she'll be just as strong... because she's yours. So you need to be strong for her _now_ too…" Tara ended, somewhat awkwardly. Spike knew what she was getting at though; she was telling him not to let himself wallow in his grief, because at least he was going to have the chance to see Arielle again.

"You're right, Glinda." He said simply, and she let out a relieved sigh with a smile. Blushing a little at still being the centre of attention, she began to back away from the room.

"I just… wanted to remind you." With a last shy smile, she disappeared around the corner.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy felt like she was on a rollercoaster of emotions. _Hey… maybe I can actually blame pregnancy for that?_ She felt torn up about Arielle's death-but-not-death earlier that night, concern for Spike and just what exactly that 'sacrifice' may have done to him, and relief that – just for the moment – things were peaceful between them. But, most notably, ever since she'd seen the results of the test she'd took, she felt like butterflies were doing a crazy dance in her stomach. _I'm going to be a mother. A mother of a half-slayer half-vampire baby. A baby that is going to grow up to be the biggest, most beautiful, pain in my ass ever._ But the real thing was, as wigsome as the thought made her feel… She was kinda happy about it too. It was hard to explain.

"I'm just gonna get a dry towel from upstairs; stay here." She said distractedly, mind still swirling with thoughts. She'd finished washing down Spike's arms, but she was beginning to think that there was so much blood on his back that it might be better to just throw him into the shower.

She had only gotten half-way up the stairs when she heard a crash from the kitchen, and it felt like her heart stopped. Racing back down them in record time, she got to the kitchen just after the rest of the gang had. Pushing her way between Xander and Willow, she saw that Spike was on hands and knees on the ground, apparently in a _lot_ of pain. The bowl of water that he had obviously been in the process of emptying for her was on the floor by the sink, shattered.

Buffy ran the few steps to where he was collapsed, sliding a little on her knees as she dropped down to his level. Her hands hovered in the air above his shoulders, unsure where she could touch him without causing any additional pain. He was panting heavily, his face scrunched into agonized lines and low growls of anguish periodically tore from his throat.

"Spike?" She called, trying to distract him. "Spike, what is it? Tell me… _please_." His pain-filled eyes raised to hers, and he lifted one hand weakly in the direction of his body. _Well that doesn't tell me much._ Buffy placed a palm flat on his chest, intending to help push him into an upright position. What she felt there stopped her cold.

His heart was beating. _Holy crap._

"…How?" She asked in her shock, though not really expecting him to know.

"What?" Dawn asked anxiously, drawing Buffy into the realization that the others were still in the room and watching the two of them in varying degrees of concern. She shot a quick look at Giles, even though she knew he wouldn't have any more answers than she did.

"His heart is beating." Everyone's faces crumpled in shock, and Dawn gasped out loud. Giles absently began cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt, looking like he'd just been run over by a truck.

Beside her, Spike's gasping breaths began to calm, and there seemed to be no traces whatsoever of the cuts on his arms at all anymore. Sending a quick look to his back, she noted that it was still just as covered in blood as it had been before, but she couldn't tell whether or not there were still wounds underneath it all.

"How is this possible?" Giles murmured in confusion. Buffy's attention was drawn downwards again when Spike leaned his forehead weakly against her shoulder.

"Bloody fuck, that was painful." He grit out, though there was relief in his voice that the pain was apparently over.

"Why would his heart beating be painful?" Anya asked, but no one had an answer. Well… No one except Spike, apparently.

"Heart don' beat for over a soddin' century, o' course sudden movement's gonna sting like a bitch." He said simply. _I guess that makes sense._ "Forgotten what it felt like, to be honest." He mumbled more to himself than anyone.

"Can you stand?" Buffy asked, still worried for him. He made a dismissive noise, as if she was making him out to sound like a wimp or something.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike rose to his feet, a bit more shakily than he would have liked. Buffy rose beside him, looking for all the world as if she was ready to catch him if he fell. _Bloody woman… Anything to make a man feel weak, yeah?_ Squeezing her shoulder lightly with his hand to let her know he was alright, he spared the shattered bowl a weary glance.

"Sorry 'bout your kitchen bits." He said dryly, just to see her roll her eyes.

"I wasn't exactly concerned over _that_." She responded in like form. Chuckling a little, he gave the ends of her hair a small tug before letting her go.

"Be borrowin' the shower, if you don't mind." He needed to get the copious amounts of dried blood off of him; it was beginning to flake and itch, and the smell of blood just wasn't holding the same appeal for him as it once did.

"I'd thought the same thing, to be honest." She said in some amusement. "Should be a towel or something in there." Nodding his head, Spike trudged his way up the staircase in full consciousness of the heavy silence he was leaving behind in the kitchen.

The feel of the warm water was delicious, though he was hesitant to try overly hard to actually _touch_ his back to clean it. It was still bloody sore, so instead he let the water wash away as much as it could on its own. The soaps in the bathroom all smelled feminine, a testament to exactly _who_ it was that lived in the house. Still, he could easily tell by the scent which was Buffy's.

Deciding against using any kind of perfumed soap on fresh wounds, he reached as far behind him as he could to carefully and gently wipe the rest of the blood off with his hands. The gashes that had graced his arms from the razor-wire had entirely disappeared, but he had a sneaking suspicion that such was not the case with his back.

Shutting off the water and stepping out to dry himself, Spike found that someone (probably Buffy) had snuck in at some point and left a large pair of black sweatpants upon the closed lid of the toilet; his filthy black denims were nowhere to be seen. Shrugging at the unfamiliar dressing, he pulled the sweatpants on easily and went below to join the others; he found them huddled once again in the living room. Buffy rose from where she'd been sitting with Dawn, his discarded shirt from the churchyard in hand.

"Thought you might want this." She said with a shrug, moving over to him. "Did you get off all the blood?"

"Most, I think." He replied tiredly, taking the worn black cloth from her as she moved around behind him to check his back. Her quick intake of air had his newly beating heart skipping in a quick flash of panic. Turning his head to see her, he quickly saw that her eyes seemed to be twice their usual size. "What?" He asked, noticing that her gasp had caught the others' attention as well. "What is it?"

"What the hell?" She murmured quietly in confusion, still staring at his back with a frown on her face.

_Just what in the bleedin' hell is she seeing there?_


	11. The Missing Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

"…Buffy?" He asked her, his voice cautious like he knew he wasn't gonna like her answer. Buffy just continued to stare at his back for a moment, unable to completely comprehend what she was seeing.

The wounds on Spike's back – which she had assumed to be whip marks, since they had appeared on him in the churchyard to sound of whip cracks – were actually much more complicated than that. There were hundreds of intricate lines forming symbols that she'd never seen before, and running the length of his back in four long columns. The gashes were beginning to heal over, but instead of disappearing completely like the wounds on his arms did, they were healing into raised scars. 

Raising a slightly shaky hand, she let her fingertips ghost over the marks in wonder. _What the hell does all of this mean?_ She dropped her hand again when Spike flinched slightly at her touch. Taking a step back, she looked at the Scoobies with slightly spooked eyes.

"I don't know what it is… Giles?" She was hesitant; a part of her was burning with curiosity to know what this all was adding up to, but a part of her was afraid. She was absolutely frightened that just when she'd found the courage to face her feelings for the stupid vampire – _Is he still a vampire?_ – he was going to be taken away from her somehow. The Watcher took quick steps over to see what she was talking about, tweaking his glasses upon his nose and squinting slightly in concentration. Minutes that seemed like hours passed before he spoke, and Buffy could see that Spike was getting restless in his curiosity.

"…Good Lord." Giles said after an age of waiting, and he sounded shocked.

"Giles. A little _more_ input than that?" She said impatiently when he remained silent. He startled slightly from where he had been inspecting the marks, as if he'd forgotten about the rest of them still being in the room. Clearing his throat, he raised a hand to rub at his forehead.

"It's Aramaic." He said simply. The statement only made Buffy go _'huh-buh?'_ in her head, but at the words Spike spun wildly in an effort to see his own back. Him spinning in futile circles would have made her laugh on a normal day, if she wasn't so confused.

"Spike. Try a mirror, you idiot. If you've got a heartbeat, you probably have a reflection. And Giles... a world of _WHAT?!_ " She couldn't help it; sometimes the commanding-Slayer-voice just took over. Spike took off for the large mirror in the hallway as Buffy turned to face her father-like figure. Giles was just opening his mouth to answer her when Spike's shout from the hall distracted them.

"… 's that what I've _always_ looked like?" He called, making a smile want to appear on her lips despite the very serious heebie jeebies.

"Yes, you've always looked that stupid." Xander called, only for Spike's hand to appear in the doorway flipping him the V's. _I love them sometimes._

"Giles." She prompted again, but surprisingly it was Spike that answered her as he re-entered the living room.

"Aramaic. It was the language of Jesus Christ when he lived." He said simply, and they all stared at him in varying degrees of confusion and shock.

"Why would a vampire know that?" Anya asked, reflecting the thoughts of most of the others in the room. Spike looked at her in consternation before answering.

"I _was_ a good little Victorian gentleman before Dru sank her fangs into me, I'll have you know. Went to church and everything."

"…I'm sorry, I just can't picture it." Dawn said after giving his statement some thought. A grimace passed over his face, which Buffy found odd.

"Wouldn' want you to…" He mumbled, barely coherent. _I wonder what he was like when he was human._

"So… Jesus' language, huh?" Buffy asked, bringing them back to the topic at hand. Spike nodded and Xander looked thoughtful.

"Does that mean Spike's Jesus now?" He mused, only to be slapped upside the head by Willow. "Ow! Joking!" Buffy rolled her eyes at him before continuing on.

"So if we know what language it is, what does it say?" She asked. Giles sighed heavily at that.

"I don't know. There are very few people who can still read and translate Aramaic… I'll have to explore my resources." Buffy nodded, having figured that it wouldn't be that easy.

"Something tells me time is of the essence." She said instead, knowing that Giles would do his best to get the info they needed quickly.

Sending the others off to bed, she forced Spike to stand still while Giles copied the symbols down onto a piece of paper to be translated. _I hope this is a good thing…_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike was impatient. He always had been, even when human – he'd been thoroughly unwilling to wait for things to come to him, and instead had always rushed to jump the gun and _make_ them happen. It was one reason why a lot of his evil little plans inevitably fell through; he'd always been too eager to see the end result. His impatience extended to sitting still so that Rupert could copy down the Aramaic carved into the flesh of his back for translation. Only the Slayer's glare was keeping him from jumping up and saying 'sod it' to it all.

Between the heartbeat, the reflection, and the fact that he had a holy language carved into his skin with no burning to follow, Spike was confident in his own mind to say that he was no longer a vampire. He'd known since he'd first woken up in the churchyard that _something_ was different with him… He didn't _feel_ like a vampire, but he didn't feel strictly like a human either. He remembered – a little vaguely – what being human had felt like, and this certainly wasn't it.

This was… this was _powerful_. He felt just as strong – hell, perhaps even stronger – as when he'd been a demon, he was healing at an alarmingly accelerated rate, and his sense of smell had in no way diminished back to a human level. Sitting there with his back to the Watcher, he could smell the cookies in the jar in the kitchen, the light hint of Buffy's soap that was upon her skin, even the musty scent of old books that clung to Rupert's clothes.

No… There wasn't a chance in bloody _hell_ that he was human. _So just what the fuck am I now? Arielle, my girl… A little more information would have been appreciated._ All he knew was what Arielle had told them in the churchyard… That he _was_ the weapon they had been told would end this apocalypse. He now understood what the girl had meant when she'd told Buffy that the Slayer wouldn't be the one to save the world this time. It was gonna have to be _him_.

There was a slight clatter as Rupert finished his copying and rose from his seat. The Watcher said a distracted goodnight to Buffy as he continued to study the symbols on his way out the door. Sensing the nervousness that was suddenly radiating off the Slayer, Spike rose a brow at her in question.

"Um…" She began, rather ineloquently. Her eyes darted around the room, seeming incapable of landing on his own for any significant length of time.

"…Out with it, love." He said with some amusement. Whereas before she would always protest the pet-name, this time it seemed to calm her. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she tried again.

"…It's late." She said.

"Yes, it is." He replied, and she pulled a face that said that he wasn't making this easy for her.

"So we should… Y'know. Get some rest." A thought seemed to suddenly occur to her. "Do you _need_ rest?" She asked, nervousness momentarily forgotten in the wake of her curiosity. He thought on it for a moment, trying to take stock of how he felt.

"I dunno, to be honest… Not sure _how_ I feel right now." It wasn't a very coherent answer, but it was the only one he really had.

"…Right." She said, obviously trying to get back on track. "But it probably wouldn't _hurt_ you to get some rest." Spike rose from his seat, getting tired of her dancing around the subject. He had a feeling he knew what she was trying to ask him, anyway. Striding over to her, he stopped just inches away.

"Buffy." He said, drawing her attention and watching as her teeth sank softly into her lower lip. It made him smile… A genuine soft smile, not even a self-confident smirk. Cradling her one cheek in his hand, he forced her to meet his eyes. "All you have to do is ask." His newly-beating heart began to speed up at the warmth that was radiating from her body to his own.

"…Stay with me?" She asked quietly, as if afraid that he would deny her. _What a silly bint._ Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her own softly in the only answer that he would ever be able to give her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy came awake slowly to the sound of the other girls moving about in the hallway outside her door. Stretching slightly to ease tired muscles, she felt a curious weight around her waist. Sliding her hand down, she encountered a well-muscled forearm at about the same time that she registered the wall of body heat at her back. _He's so warm… Spike was always ice cold before._ Turning slightly in his arms, she took a moment to study his sleeping face.

There had been times before, when she would show up at his crypt and basically jump his bones, that she would be there close enough to the dawn to see him sleep. It wasn't often that he'd let himself sleep with her around… As if a part of him had instinctively been afraid to be that vulnerable around his mortal enemy. But in those rare times, she'd paid attention to that side of him like she'd never given him before. Spike was always so… _peaceful_ in his sleep. When Angel would sleep around her, it was like laying next to a corpse – as wigsome as that was – because there would be no steady rise-and-fall of his chest. With Spike, even though vampires had no _need_ to breathe, his chest had always moved with soft breaths in his sleep anyways.

That had _always_ been one of the defining things about Spike, as a vampire… He'd unconsciously tried so very hard to at least _appear_ human, even from the very first. Since she'd first met him, she'd noticed that he always breathed, smoked, drank and ate like a human. He'd almost _always_ worn his human face, the demonic one only really coming out when he was fighting. And he'd _felt_ … God, how he'd felt.

She'd seen him cry, rage, and love. She'd seen him sing, laugh, and dance. She'd seen him be so much more _human_ than some actual humans, and all without the benefit of a soul. She'd never figured that one out, to be honest. How had Spike still had so much of _William_ inside him, when vampires had no soul? Angel had said one time that he thought Drusilla hadn't changed Spike properly when she'd bit him… Maybe that was it.

His eyes suddenly blinked open, jerking her out of her thoughts. She could see the warmth creep into his gaze when it occurred to him that – for the first time – he was waking up beside her. She smiled at him slightly, but his face remained serious.

"…You're gorgeous, you know that?" He murmured softly to her. Her heart melted a little; she couldn't help it. She may be the toughest of girls, but hey… She _was_ still a girl.

"You're not so bad yourself, mister." She said easily, and was suddenly awash in the freedom. She could say what she wanted to him, touch him however she wanted. _Love him._ There were no restrictions anymore, because she was done putting blocks on herself. He finally graced her with a small smile, staring at her for a moment longer. "You look oddly at home in such a girly bed." She remarked, a teasing edge to her voice. He growled low in his throat, and dragged her body closer to his own by his arm around her waist.

"Callin' me girly?" He grumbled as he nuzzled his face into the turn of her neck, making her flush a little at the contact.

"I call 'em like I see 'em." She giggled, before pushing him away to get out of bed. _I could get used to this_. "How 'bout some breakfast? Feel like making pancakes?" He laughed easily at that, also rising to get up and throw on the jeans that she'd washed for him the night before. _Wowie… I could definitely get used to that sight in the morning, too._

"Shoulda known better than to expect _you'd_ do the cookin', yeah?" He teased, throwing her a raised brow. She threw one right back at him.

"Do you _really_ want Buffy-cooking?" She asked, expectantly. He frowned.

"… 'm not suicidal, thanks." His answer only made her laugh as she opened up the bedroom door. Dawn stood on the other side, fist poised to knock. Buffy could see her kid sister's eyes bounce back-and-forth between her and Spike, before they lit up with glee.

"Breakfast time?" She asked happily, though Buffy knew it was for the fact that Spike had so _clearly_ spent the night with her, rather than the prospect of some nibblies.

"Yeah. Spike's making pancakes." She said.

"Oi! I never agreed to that!" He protested, though he was still smiling. _I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much… Was it really that easy to make him happy all along?_ When they got down to the kitchen, it was to find Willow and Tara already seated at the table with cups of tea and talking in hushed tones. Buffy knew that they were probably only minutes away from the invasion of Xander and Anya, likely to be followed closely by Giles.

"Better make it a big batch." She said to Spike as he started fetching ingredients out of her cupboards. The fact that he knew where everything was _should_ have thrown her, but it really didn't. She glanced at his back, which was covered with the soft material of his black t-shirt, and wondered again about the Aramaic words that were now carved into his skin. She'd snuck a peek while they were getting dressed, and the wounds had been completely healed over… Though the raised scars made the symbols easily readable still.

She seated herself at the table with the witches while Dawn hopped around Spike excitedly, helping him with cooking breakfast. A distant part of her noticed how much he seemed to fit in with the little family she'd built around herself, even though they'd always treated him like an outsider. Dawn's eyes almost literally shone with excitement as she played chef's assistant, teasing and joking with Spike while he flipped pancakes on the stove. He'd always treated Dawn like his own; some kind of mash-up between being fatherly and big-brotherly… Which was pretty much the same position as Buffy was in with Dawn; somewhere between an older sister and a mother-figure, since their own mother was gone. How she'd never allowed herself to notice how well he _fit_ with them before was a mystery.

"This is nice and… homey." Tara said in a quiet undertone, and Buffy smiled a little.

"Yeah… Isn't it?" She replied a bit distractedly. The door banged open a noisily, announcing the arrival of Xander and Anya.

Hopefully they would have some news soon from Giles about just what the hell was going on with Spike.


	12. Righteous Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

The Watcher didn't show until the others were half through their breakfast. Spike had joined them, feeling equal parts hopeful and slightly out-of-place, despite the fact that the women had made an effort to act as if it were a normal occurrence. Even the Whelp kept his fat mouth shut about it.

Rupert's arrival made the pancakes he'd just consumed sink like lead to the pit of his stomach, however. He trusted that Arielle wouldn't have done something harmful to him, but he still wasn't sure that he was gonna like what the end result was. Deciding to delay the potentially uncomfortable conversation, he held up a hand for silence as the Watcher opened his mouth to speak.

Getting to his feet slightly stiffly, he trudged past the nonplussed ex-librarian and to the front door, hearing Buffy rise to follow him. He opened the door to the daylight, the porch still in shadows at that time of morning, and walked to the line where darkness gave way to light, stopping just before it. In a lot of ways, it was symbolic of his life in recent years: dancing the thin line between light and dark, between right and wrong... evil and good. He could hear Buffy come to an uncertain pause behind him, hovering just behind his shoulder. The others would follow soon. _Nosy little wankers._

He took the few decisive steps required to bring him into the sunshine, stopping when he reached the midpoint of the front lawn. The forgotten warmth that washed over his pale skin was almost akin to a holy experience... Sure, he'd been out in the sun before with the help of that damned ring, but back then there had still been that thrill of fear that he could easily be reduced to ash with one mistake. Now there was no such fear.

He raised his arms out to either side of his body, turning his palms upwards to the caressing light. It had been so long since he'd _truly_ felt such warmth; he was in awe at the feeling, having forgotten it long before. His eyes stung with the brightness around him, too used to shadows and darkness after all the years he'd hidden away from the day. He startled slightly when Buffy placed a hand on his shoulder, obviously having lost himself in his thoughts. He sensed that she was waiting for him to say something, not wanting to break the moment herself.

"I'd forgotten..." He said, voice coming out a bit rougher than intended. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "It'd been so long... I'd forgotten I could feel so warm." As he lowered his arms, her hand slid off his shoulder to twine her fingers around his own. Turning his head to stare down at soft emerald eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself. "Alright... Now I'm ready, love."

They turned as one to re-enter the house, Spike coming to an abrupt halt at the sight that greeted them on the front porch. Glinda and the Bit were staring at him a little mistily, whereas the men were both glancing away in obvious discomfort. _'S what you get, stickin' your gobs in where they don' belong._ He thought to himself, admittedly a little smug at making Giles and Xander uncomfortable.

"Alight, Watcher." Spike called as he trudged across the lawn to return inside. "Let's get this sussed out, yeah?"

"Indeed." Was the droll reply.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy wasn't quite sure what to say… She was still processing the absolutely _awed_ look that a little bit of sunshine had brought to Spike's face, when he abruptly decided that he was ready to hear Giles' translation after all. Her stomach was twisting into sick knots, worried about him, and she didn't know how to deal with it. Allowing herself to _worry_ about Spike was a relatively new thing, after all. Giles settled himself down on the couch – clearing his throat in that very British way that he had a habit of – and getting ready to speak. Buffy slumped herself down into a nearby chair, but Spike remained standing just behind her shoulder, propped against the doorway.

"I've received a translation from my contact," Giles began.

"I gathered." Spike cut in with a wry tone, making Giles roll his eyes and huff an exasperated breath.

"According to him," He continued on, as if Spike hadn't even spoken. "a rough translation of the four lines of Aramaic writing on your back is thus: _Out of darkness comes light / To see evil vanquished / A conquered evil will rise / One eye for one eye_." Buffy raised a brow, still at a loss for words. Dawn didn't seem to have the same problem.

"…So it means that Spike will be able to defeat the demony-guy because he _used_ to be evil, right? I mean, 'to see evil vanquished, a conquered evil will rise'…" She broke in suddenly. Buffy saw where she was going with it.

"I get it. Since Spike overcame his demon to sacrifice himself for the greater good and all that jazz, it means he should be able to take this Ahnshyr'k guy down." She stated, seeing Giles nod slightly out of the corner of her eye. "But this doesn't tell us exactly _what_ happened to him… I mean, he's _clearly_ not a vampire anymore. So what, he's human?" Spike shook his head, drawing her attention.

"No." He said simply, making her frown. "No way in bloody hell I'm human, pet."

"How so?" She asked, knowing he'd have a reason.

"I can still smell like I could when a vampire, and I can sense human emotion in the air like I could before. I don' really know how I ken it, but I jus' _know_ that I'm not human." He seemed to be thinking something over for a minute, before he spoke again. "Hit me."

"Huh-buh?" Was her oh-so intelligent reply.

"Take a swing at me." He insisted. "I wanna see something." Shrugging her shoulders, she stood up and dropped into an offensive stance. She flew at him with one of her swiftest punches, but instead of connecting with his face her knuckles seemed to only catch air. It was like she had blinked, and he was suddenly on the other side of the room.

"What the hell?" She asked. Vampires had amazing super-speed, that was for sure, but he had moved even _faster_. She flew at him again, throwing in some kicks for good measure, but hardly seemed able to touch him. Panting a little for breath, she stopped for a moment. "What happens if you stop trying to dodge them?" She asked. Grinning at her, he spread his arms wide in invitation. She geared up with her arm, punching him as hard to the sternum as she could manage. It was like hitting a freaking brick wall… She might have even heard a crack in her wrist that was suddenly on fire with pain. _Well, damn_. "Ouchies." She said lightly, though still trying to catch her breath and cradling her wrist. Spike frowned quickly at the motion.

"Okay…" Xander cut in, sounding slightly shocked. "If punching him breaks a _Slayer's_ wrist… A human's got no chance in hell."

"Yes, but it isn't a _human_ that we're worried about." Giles pointed out.

"Right." Xander replied, having obviously forgotten that little fact.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As entertained as he was with the idea of finally – _for once_ – being stronger than the Slayer, Spike found his enjoyment was tainted with the knowledge that the Powers would only have made him so strong for _one_ reason: this Ahnshyr'k was a big enough threat to humanity to warrant it. And that spelled all kinds of trouble for them.

Sliding out of the room quietly while the lot of them bandied back-and-forth what it could all possibly _mean_ , he found himself seated comfortably on Buffy's back steps. _Always did love these steps._ He wasn't given much time for contemplation when a subtle creak sounded from a footstep behind him. He picked up the scent of Dawn's apple body lotion a moment before she sat beside him and spoke.

"So…" She said lightly, obviously unsure of what to say. "You're Superman, huh?" He huffed a small laugh before running a hand over his forehead in tiredness. This whole situation seemed to be getting more and more complicated.

"S'pose so." He murmured quietly. She leaned a little until her head was resting against his shoulder, making him glance down at the shiny mop of mahogany hair. She didn't speak again, obviously sensing his need for quiet.

The comforting weight of her skinny little form against him was enough to keep him grounded while he stared out at the sun-dappled back lawn. _Just what the bloody fuck am I supposed to do?_ He asked himself, supplying his own answer almost immediately. _Whatever it takes._ The quiet moment with the girl he'd come to think of as is own was ruined a moment later when he could almost smell the evil on the air.

"Dawn…" He said slowly and carefully, his tone making her raise her head in worry. "Get inside, tell your sister and the lot of them to round up some weapons." She placed a hand against his arm, frightened little eyes asking him what was wrong. "Trouble's comin'." She sprung to her feet, the back door slamming after her as he slowly rose from the steps.

He stood as still as a statue, eyes taking in his surroundings and looking for hidden threats. Spike couldn't see anything immediate, but he could sure as hell feel it coming for them. With one last look at the yard, he retreated inside to check on the others. He entered to the usual chaos of battle preparation; Buffy was ordering the others around with various tasks, Giles was gathering up a stack of dusty old books, Xander was rounding up weapons, and the others were a flurry of activity going back and forth.

"What do you want to do?" Buffy asked, stopping in front of him. Her words made the others pause and watch quietly, and he understood why. For Buffy to relinquish control to him was something of a marvel, having never been done before. Spike understood the kind of sacrifice such a thing was for her, but he also saw that she was intelligent enough to know that this fight wasn't hers… _Not this time_.

"Let's get to the Magic Box. It's got more supplies if we need them, and ought to give us a chance to get a plan together." For all that Spike had previously been the master of many underlings – used to making rash plans and ordering them into action – he was unsure with his decisions now that he was being given charge of Buffy and her family. An evil master cared not a whit about whether his underlings survived his orders or not… Spike very much cared whether or not his actions would get any of them killed now. He didn't think he'd be able to live with their blood on his hands anymore. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen._

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buffy had felt a churning in her stomach the whole way to the Magic Box. The sky had been steadily darkening with thunderous clouds, despite the fact that it was still mid-morning. The air felt like it was charged with electricity, a constant buzz that hummed along her skin and made it crawl. _This is bad… Very, very not of the good._

They hadn't quite made it to the designated safe-point yet when the demon's minions struck. A wave of dark figures began to crawl from everywhere, outnumbering the Scoobies easily. They hacked, slashed and stabbed the best that they could… But Buffy had enough battle experience behind her to know when she was beat. They were taken away from Spike in a swarm of darkness, her last view of him the defeated sorrow shining in his eyes.

The next that she was conscious, Buffy was kneeling on the ground at the demon's feet, wrists chained to a peg driven deep into the stone floor they were resting on. Blinking foggy eyes to take stock of her surroundings, she spotted the rest of her family in similar restraints around the cavern they appeared to be in. _At least they're all alive, if a little worse for wear._ She glanced upwards when she heard Ahnshyr'k chuckle arrogantly to the room at large.

"Well, well Slayer…" He ground out in that horrible voice. "You've proven to be a bit of a disappointment." Glaring up at him, she kept her mouth shut. "I had thought it would take much longer to get you here, all bound up for my enjoyment. Pity you didn't prove to be a bit more of a challenge."

"You can't even _believe_ how many times I've heard the exact same words, from demons who ended up dead." She said easily, though her back was beginning to ache from her kneeling position. Ahnshyr'k only chuckled some more, taking a few steps closer to her and placing one foot on her upper back. He stepped downward sharply, shoving her even closer to the floor.

"That's right, kitten. Kneel to me as you should." He taunted. Buffy grit her teeth, the rage bubbling up within her. Apparently having lost interest in forcing her to the floor, the pressure on her back suddenly disappeared as he moved away. "You would do well to hold your tongue, woman. I came here with the intention of killing the 'legendary' Slayer… And find myself with a new challenge." Her blood went cold as she realized that he knew about Spike's change. She glanced up at the demon, trying to suppress her fear.

"What makes you think that uppity vampire would come after us?" She tried to deflect in a desperate move. "He's been trying to kill me half my life. He'd probably thank you for doing it." She knew that her words had failed as all three of the demon's faces grinned maniacally.

"Slayer… I had given your intelligence much more credit than this. Did you honestly believe that I would make my move on you while so ill-informed?" She began to feel sick at the realization that she had been right… He knew _everything_. "For instance, I know that this one called 'Spike' is no longer a vampire, thanks to that little hellion that performed the sacrifice in the churchyard." She flinched at the mention of Arielle, grief swamping her for a brief moment. "I also happen to know _where_ that little hellion now resides…" He hissed into her ear, bending close enough to her for her to smell his rancid breath. _No… He can't know. It's not possible._

"You do, do you." Buffy drawled, trying to sound confident. She was failing at it, she knew.

"Oh but I do." Ahnshyr'k replied, and her stomach sunk some more. "Right inside yourself, isn't that right?" He taunted, before drawing a strong leg back and letting the kick fly. It caught her right in the stomach, making sharp pains shoot up inside her as she cried out.

"No!" Dawn screamed, momentarily drawing the demon's attention. Buffy gasped for breath, curling her legs up in a subconscious effort to protect her stomach and her child. Ahnshyr'k walked a few paces closer to the teenager, all of his faces still grinning crazily.

"Don't fret, child. None of you were going to survive to see the halfling's birth anyway."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stone floor splintered into cracks as Spike dropped from up above. He'd had the devil of a time figuring out where they'd been taken, once he'd gotten himself to calm down and focus, but had finally made his way in for the rescue. As he slowly rose to full height, he kept his eyes trained on the demon instead of allowing them to stray to check on Buffy. He'd seen the vicious kick that Ahnshyr'k had delivered to her stomach, and could feel the righteous rage growing within him. _How DARE he touch what belongs to me!_

"Ah. You've finally arrived." The demon stated, as if talking about afternoon tea. "So good of you to join us." The rage within Spike kicked up another notch, his skin feeling as if about to burst into flame from his anger. He noted idly that Dawn's eyes had widened suddenly at the sight of him, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. _Keep your focus, Old Man._ Ahnshyr'k seemed to give him a look over with his front-facing set of eyes, as if Spike was a curiosity. "What precisely did they do to you?" He mused. "I'm afraid you're glowing, boy. Very colourful."

Without drawing his eyes away from their focus on the demon, Spike could see that a subtle blue light was shining out of his very skin, surrounding him. He felt as though electric power was surging through him, and heard the soft gasp that sounded from Tara.

"Your eyes…" She breathed quietly, as if in awe. "They're glowing too!"

Ahnshyr'k had obviously grown tired of the whole exchange, and surged forward in an attempt to catch Spike unaware. It was a useless draw, as he'd not once taken his eyes off of the demon. He deflected the first blow that came from a sword Ahnshyr'k had seemingly drawn from nowhere with the hilt of his favourite battle axe, hearing a solid clanking sound as the blade struck metal stripping. The grin that he directed to the demon over their crossed weapons was chilling and promised no mercy.

"Let's dance."


	13. Sic Parvis Magna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Sic Parvis Magna_ \- "Greatness From Small Beginnings"
> 
> See disclaimer on first chapter.

Spike's blood felt like ice in his veins, his every move cold and calculated to cause the most pain and damage possible. Ahnshyr'k was proving to be a formidable opponent, that was for damn sure… But Spike had already assumed that he had been given so much power because he was going to genuinely _need_ it in order to defeat the demon. 

His battle axe swung in great arcs, the sharp edges of the blades glinting with the flames from the candles that seemed to be the only source of light in the cavern. Despite the dimness, Spike could see perfectly well… as if it were bright as day. He supposed that was just one more 'perk' that the Powers had given him with his change.

The fight was brutal; more than once, he could feel the sting of the razor-like claws that Ahnshyr'k seemed to be able to lengthen at will. He'd caught the demon's mottled skin a few times with his axe, but overall the weapon didn't seem to be having much effect. Dodging another slash of those talons, Spike rolled backwards and landed in a crouch, ready and watching for the demon's next move.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the blue glowing that had previously encompassed his skin had condensed, and was now arching across his skin like lightening. He didn't know what it meant, or if that was even a _good_ thing, but chose to ignore it in favour of concentrating on taking Ahnshyr'k down. Springing back up to his feet, Spike launched himself back at the demon and missed his neck with the blade of the battle axe by a mere inch. _Mother FUCKER! Damned lucky, you are._

The breath was knocked out of him as Ahnshyr'k flung him backwards to slam heavily against the cavern wall, just barely missing crushing Dawn's small body where she was chained. He paused for a moment to catch his breath again, and Dawn crept as close to him as her chains would allow, her face pinched in terror and worry for him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, voice trembling with the effort of trying to contain her fright and hysteria. It may have seemed like an asinine question to most, but Spike knew that she was only concerned for him.

"Jus' peachy, Little Bit. All easy-peasy… I'm Superman, remember?" He coughed out, struggling back to his feet. He threw the battle axe in his hand a glower, frustrated that he seemed no closer to defeating Ahnshyr'k by using it. _There has to be something else._ Dawn's thoughts seemed to be running similar to his own.

"Superman never used weapons." She said, her voice small and far-away. Spike turned his attention a little more fully to her, while still watching the demon drawing nearer out of his peripheral vision.

"Huss'at?" He asked, not following where she was going. _Has fright finally made the girl go over the rainbow?_ She turned her eyes to his, her gaze clear as day and showing that she knew _exactly_ what she was saying.

"Superman never used weapons… His body _was_ his weapon." She replied. Spike blinked his eyes at that, but suddenly Arielle's voice sounded in his head. _'Out of darkness comes light', Da. The girl's right… Use your light._

Turning his attention back to Ahnshyr'k, he threw the battle axe to the cavern floor, the metal clanging with a note of finality.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the sound of Spike dropping his only weapon to the floor rang out in the room, Buffy stared at him like he was an idiot. Okay, so Spike was crazy amounts of strong and fast after his change, but… taking on Ahnshyr'k with _no weapons_ , whatsoever? To her that just screamed 'bad idea' all over. She'd heard what Dawn had said about Superman, but that was a _fictional_ character! Spike couldn't _really_ take this demon down with nothing but his own body… Could he? He certainly looked like he was about to try.

Spike pushed away from the cavern wall, rubbing a thumb over Dawn's cheek quickly – in an unconscious effort to reassure the teenager, Buffy guessed – and taking a few steps toward Ahnshyr'k. From her position, Buffy could see part of Spike's back as he stared the baddie down. She watched in amazement as blue light began to filter through the material of his t-shirt on his back, eventually shining so brightly that the shirt just… burned away.

Left topless, the lines of Aramaic that had been scarred into Spike's back were now glowing brightly and casting an eerie blue-tinge over the whole cavern. His eyes were glowing so much that all she could see was blue; there was _no_ definition to his eyes anymore. _Great… I have a light-bright for a boyfriend._ Buffy watched, speechless, while Spike raised a hand and seemed to… _push_ the blue lightening that had been tracing over his body from his extended palm.

The light shot out quickly in the demon's direction, striking Ahnshyr'k on his left shoulder and burning into his flesh with a sickening sizzle. The demon and Spike both seemed to gape at each other for a moment; Ahnshyr'k because he seemed to be stunned that Spike had actually hurt him, and Spike because he had just _shot fucking lightening_ out of his _hand_. Grinning scarily, Spike began to advance on the demon, shooting his light at him and causing more smoking wounds to appear. Obviously Ahnshyr'k realized at the same moment the rest of them did that Spike now seemed to have the advantage, because he suddenly raised a hand.

"A little change of scenery, I think." He said in that horrible voice before clicking his fingers together. Suddenly, Buffy and the others found themselves in an open field, still chained to the ground and helpless while Spike and Ahnshyr'k faced off in the middle of the space. Buffy had only a moment to wonder why the demon seemed so pleased when the question was answered: what must have been almost a hundred of his minions suddenly appeared on the field, swarming their way toward Spike. _Well, fuck._

She watched as he tried to fight the mass of creatures off, but eventually he fell under the sheer volume of them. She got one last glimpse of him straining against the wave, before she couldn't even see him anymore.

Buffy had never felt more helpless, or more _useless_ , in her life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spike caught a last glimpse of Buffy's dismayed face before he was buried under a swarm of writhing creatures, all intent on his untimely death. His desperate need to protect her – to protect _all_ of them – was what saved him. Instead of the rage that _had_ been fuelling him, it was now that _need_ that drove his actions. Pressing up strongly with both his legs _and_ his light, he suddenly found himself breaking free of the mass of bodies and rising up fully into the air.

Arms stretched out to his sides, he could feel the light moving through and around him, and suddenly he knew _exactly_ what to do. Concentrating, he directed the light to gather in the middle of his chest, storing up its energy with greater and greater force. He didn't know _how_ he knew that this was the right thing to do… He just _knew_ it. And he wasn't gonna question it. When he felt like he was ready, his body dropped from where it had hovered in the air back to the ground, hitting the earth harshly and blasting out his light with the force of a shockwave.

It arced over the swarm of bodies, igniting in their grotesque forms and burning them away to nothing. As the dying shrieks of the minions faded on the chill air, Spike turned his attention back to where Ahnshyr'k was off to the side of the field, seeming to be stunned that Spike was still standing. He was no longer afraid of the demon, because _this_ \- this feeling lancing through him - this was _power_. He finally understood it, finally had a grasp on just _what_ he was now capable of.

This demon was going to rue the day he'd ever come to Sunnydale, as so many before him had. Like the moment earlier, he began to concentrate his light, building up the force of it. Spike took measured steps toward Ahnshyr'k, gratified when the demon finally appeared to be afraid of him. As he approached, Ahnshyr'k seemed to snap out of his shock, and raised a hand in preparedness to click his fingers and disappear. _Oh no you don't, wanker._ Before he had the chance, Spike directed bolts of his lightening straight for the filthy thing's face, a feeling of satisfaction welling within him when the mass of energy caused the creature's entire bloody head to explode.

Spike stood in the centre of the clearing, smoking lifeless corpse at his feet and the air around him still crackling with power. With a thought, he directed his light to every set of chains holding his family hostage and broke them all. As the battle fever subsided within him, he could feel and see the glowing bolts of light beginning to dissipate, the energy in the air around them losing its charge.

"Holy shit…" Xander seemed incapable of any other thought at that moment, but Spike really couldn't blame him. Even for those used to 'weird' as their daily life, the things they had seen and felt just then had been bordering on incredulity. _'Holy shit', indeed._ Spike raced over to Buffy to help her to her feet, frowning mightily when she gasped in pain and clutched her stomach.

"We need to find you a doctor, love…" He said in concern, scooping her up into his arms and refusing to let her walk. "Now where the bloody fuck _are_ we?"

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Buffy hated hospitals. She always had, ever since she was little. She was laying on a stretcher in the Maternity Ward of the Sunnydale Hospital, a heated blanket covering her legs and dressed in one of those _horrible_ gowns. _The heated blanket's kinda nice, though._ Spike was sitting in a chair beside her stretcher as they waited for the results of the ultrasound she'd been sent for, and she had to admit that she would've been going bat-shit crazy without him there.

He was holding her hand. To most couples, that would probably be like third-grade level touching… But for them it was something completely new. It hadn't been often in the past that Buffy would tolerate Spike touching her in any way that _wasn't_ strictly sexual. Now it was amazing just how much that small contact with him was calming her down. They hadn't spoken – pretty much at _all_ – since they'd left the others in the hospital waiting room and she'd been rushed to the third floor. It didn't bother her at all that he hadn't said a word, purely because she knew that he was gonna be there to take care of her, no matter what.

It was funny, really. Buffy had always been the strong girl; the defender of the weak, the mother-like older sister, the battle commander, the martyr. She'd never thought that she needed someone to look after _her_ … Not until this. To be honest, she'd never thought that she would _want_ to be looked after. But this? This was kinda nice. She'd never really known how much of a relief it was to depend on someone else for awhile. When the doctor came strolling into the room, she couldn't have stopped her hand from gripping his tighter even if her life had depended on it.

"Okay, Miss Summers…" The doctor began, and Buffy had to keep herself from swallowing nervously when he glanced back down at the folder he was holding. It wasn't as if this whole pregnancy had been exactly _planned_ … But since knowing Arielle and seeing the strong kind of woman that Buffy herself could have a chance of raising, she was absolutely one-hundred percent sure that she wanted this to be _good_ news. She wanted Arielle. _Maybe this time I can raise her to be a bit less of a bitch to her mother._

"Don't leave me hangin' here, Doc." She prompted when he fell silent. He sent her a slightly distracted smile in apology before getting on with his prognosis.

"Well, I've taken a look at the results of the ultrasound and some of the other tests we ran. I'll ease your minds; everything looks to be healthy and fine, no damage that we can tell. I have to say… I'm a bit in shock considering that you said there have been no prenatal vitamins in your daily routine – You might want to consider that, by the way. All in all, that is one amazingly strong baby to survive the… What did you say it was? A small car accident?" Buffy nodded while the relief welled within her. She sent a wry glance at Spike, the two of them sharing a secret smile.

"She _is_ an amazingly strong baby, huh?" Buffy said, a laugh tickling at her tone. The doctor smiled with them, but looked somewhat puzzled.

"Yes, quite. How did you know that you were having a girl? I saw in your file that you've had no other ultrasounds done." He said, confusion and curiosity lacing his tone. Spike kept his gaze on her face, smiling softly and running a hand through her hair.

"Lucky guess." He replied.

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Hospital policy dictated that Buffy had to be wheeled down to the waiting room in a chair, no matter the fact that she was fully capable of going it on her own. Spike hid his smile as she grumbled over it, his relief that little Arielle was alright all nestled down in her Mum making him feel almost giddy. As they entered the room, Dawn sprung to her feet and raced over, enveloping first him and then – after she had risen from the chair – Buffy in strong hugs.

"Please tell me I'm still going to be an aunt!" She said, voice slightly muffled from where she had turned her face into Buffy's shoulder. The Slayer smiled softly, ruffling her younger sister's hair affectionately.

"You are, don't worry." She said, and Spike could _feel_ the overwhelming relief in the room, everyone's shoulders draining of tension. "Let's go home." Buffy twined her fingers through his own, the two of them leaving the building together. That was how they would be, from then on: a single united front. If he managed to not bollicks the whole thing up in the next few months, that is.

He would have a home, a wife, and a child… Everything that William had ever wanted.


	14. Beauty and the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See disclaimer on first chapter.

Spike ducked as a wicked-looking dagger whizzed over his head, missing his notoriously bleached hair by mere centimeters. 

"That was _completely_ unnecessary…" He drawled with a smirk, wanting to get a rise out of his Slayer. She planted her hands on rounded hips, glaring at him with hellfire in her eyes as that delicious lower lip of hers formed a pout. _She's glorious like this._ "Could've taken my eye out, you know." She scoffed in obvious disbelief at that one.

"Like you wouldn't have ducked." She said, the pout creeping its way into her voice. His smile was badly suppressed, and he knew that she could see the mirth dancing in his eyes.

"All I said was that you looked ravishing." He stated plainly, though deep down he was genuinely confused as to how she could have _possibly_ taken that comment as anything _but_ a good thing. No matter what else he was these days, he was still _male_.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm pretty sure it was your 'ravishing' that made me this way!" She gritted out in a nasty tone, placing her palms softly upon her swollen belly. "I'm a useless fat cow…" She finished, her voice close to a petulant whimper. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the melodrama, he took a few cautious steps toward her. _Lord save me from hormonal women._

He took a moment to study the picture she made: her newly-plump figure was ensconced in a sun-dress that the witches had given her, a long affair coloured black and red. Tiny straps looped about her slim neck and the high-waisted dress fell gracefully to the floor, where her bare toes were just peeking out from under the hem. All that gorgeous hair of hers was tumbled loose and hanging over one shoulder, and her hands remained resting caressingly over where his baby girl still slept. _I will never find a more perfect creature in my life._

Taking the last steps required to bring him to her, he gently led her by her arm to the large mirror in the front hall. Positioning her in front of it, he stood resolutely behind her and grabbed her hands in his own. Knowing that she was silent only because she had no idea where he was going with this, Spike desperately hoped that what he was about to say wouldn't bollocks the whole thing up worse. Settling their joined hands once more upon her stomach, he pushed aside the odd feeling of actually _seeing_ his hands in the reflection… He still hadn't quite gotten used to that in the last few months. Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he prayed he wasn't about to get himself castrated.

"Look at this…" He said softly, watching as her gaze left his own and dropped to where their hands rested, her pout only becoming more pronounced. He tightened his grip slightly, making sure it was still gentle enough. "Our child rests in here. A child that I never _dreamed_ I would be able to have, in all my years… Human included. I got to know her so well when she was here before, and Buffy… She was so much like you. No matter the fact that in her timeline you hadn't raised her, she still somehow shone just as brightly as you always have for me." He watched as she swallowed slightly, her eyes looking suspiciously misty.

"You're not useless, and you're certainly not a cow, you daft bird." He continued. "You're fightin' hard, jus' the same as you always have. We may've ganged up on you a bit to keep you away from patrol, but that doesn' mean you've been here twiddlin' your thumbs. You've been workin' to make sure our baby girl's growin' up right, and don't think I haven't noticed it…" Taking his hands from atop her own, he smoothed them briefly over her rounded tummy and was gratified when he felt a kick against his palm. _I'll be seeing you soon, sweetheart._

"You're the mother of my child, my _wife_ …" The smug glee over the title was hard to bury in his voice, as his eyes quickly flicked down with satisfaction to see the glittering rings on her left hand. "…the eternal pain in my ass, perhaps. But you are _not_ in _any_ way a fat cow. You shine like the sun to me, just as you always have. You've accomplished the impossible, pet: A vampire that became a servant of the Light – a bloody White Hat – all because of you. So believe me when I tell you… No matter _what_ you look like, you will always be the same gorgeous creature that I've always fancied." With a bit of a smirk at her suspiciously pink nose and glassy eyes, he decided his point had made it through. "You got that, you daft woman?" She chocked on a badly-supressed laugh before turning to bury her face in his shoulder.

"Asshole." She said succinctly, but he could feel the barely-there pressure of her kiss against his t-shirted chest.

"One," He said, counting the number off on his little finger. "I'm not an asshole, I'm a bloody saint when it comes to psychotic Slayer pregnancy hormones. Two," The ring finger came up. "I'm fairly certain your knife-throwing aim is off. Three," She chuckled as he raised his middle finger to join the others. "It's all damn well true. And four," He said as he ticked off the number with his pointer finger. "I bloody well love you, as I've told you a million times." He looked at his thumb in contemplation, before raising it with a smirk. "Bitch."

The punch she aimed at his chest was surprisingly well-timed with a kick from little Arielle where Buffy's stomach was pressed against his own, but at least she was laughing. Sending him a bright smile, his silly Slayer leaned up on her toes to give him a slow kiss.

_Absolute perfection._


End file.
